


Perfection

by JimIntoMystery



Series: Futility [8]
Category: Star Trek
Genre: Delta Quadrant, Gen, The Borg, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 02:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 32,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3274085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JimIntoMystery/pseuds/JimIntoMystery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The final chapter.  </p><p>As the Federation Alliance and Unimatrix Zero plot to deal a major blow to the Borg, they remain unaware of events that would hand total victory to the Collective.  Only Commander Kreighen knows the full magnitude of the looming catastrophe.  Only one starship, the USS <em>Stormwind</em>, is available to help him save the galaxy.  And even if he succeeds, he and his comrades may be torn apart forever...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jake Kreighen could only stand there, staring, as certain doom finally came to claim him. There was nowhere left to run, no trick left to pull, no miracle left to save the day. This time, it was truly the end.

The Federation starship _Stormwind_ was well behind enemy lines, adrift and helpless. Propulsion, weapons, sensors, and shields were all disabled. Even the escape pods were gone. The only thing protecting the vessel was its cloaking device, but that wasn't foolproof. A Borg cube had evidently detected the unusual cargo the _Stormwind_ was carrying, and was now approaching for a closer look. And on top of all that, the inoculations used to protect the crew from assimilation were mysteriously wearing off.

The only one who could restore the _Stormwind_ to normal operations, and give it a chance to escape, was Admiral Janeway. Commander Kreighen had raced to get here to clear her name in a general court-martial, but his engineer had other ideas. So Ensign Jimenez turned on him, and ran off with Janeway as his prisoner, leaving Kreighen and over four hundred more fellow officers to their fate.

Truthfully, Kreighen was more shaken by the betrayal than the Borg. He'd been fighting the Collective's hive mind for years, both as part of, and under exile from, the Federation's invasion force. The Borg weren't as invincible as they would have other cultures think. But their fiercest assault could not wound him the way Jimenez had. He couldn't even bring himself to blame the ensign--this was his own fault, and that made it even worse.

At his side--till the bitter end, it seemed--was Utana Ijhel. "What do we do, Jake?"

"I..." He wanted to answer. She was still part of his crew--what was left of it--and he felt obliged to be a leader to her, if no one else. But... "I don't know," he rasped.

"I can't accept that from you."

"Doesn't matter. This ship can't even move, let alone defend itself."

"How do you _know_ that?" she demanded. "One of the officers said something about a computer lockout. Perhaps I could--"

"No!" How could she understand that the _Stormwind_ 's operations were suspended by the Omega Directive? How could he explain what that meant, or why he knew anything about such a highly-classified protocol? It was futile to try. "It's over, Utana..."

"I don't accept that from _you_!" The Cardassian woman's eyes lit up, and her usual, practiced calm gave way to a passion better reflecting the emergency. She grasped him by the shoulders and turned him away from the damned cube in the window. "You may be ready to give up, but that doesn't mean you can't find an alternative! You always do! Now, you have saved my life against impossible odds. The people on this ship deserve nothing less!"

"What are we supposed to do?" he snapped. "What do we have that this ship's crew doesn't?"

"A captain," she answered. "Theirs is on his way to surgery. My--Mine is right here."

That hit him where he lived. Kreighen pulled away from her, and returned to the window and the Borg cube. He was no captain--he wasn't even a very good lieutenant commander! He was nothing but a pilot--a "Peter Pan," as Jimenez once put it, unfit to grow up into a senior officer. Everything had gone to hell the moment he got that third pip on his collar, and every decision became life-or-death. How could he lead the crew of the _Stormwind_? It was his fault they were about to be....

For the first time, Kreighen noticed that the Borg cube was taking its sweet time. It had already broadcast its intentions--"we are the Borg, resistance is blah blah blah"--but that had been at least two or three minutes ago. Standard procedure in the Collective was to follow that immediately with a tractor beam. Of course, it was difficult to lock a tractor beam on a cloaked ship. But the cloak hadn't stopped the Borg from _intercepting_ the ship, so why would they have so much trouble _targeting_ it? Unless...

Without a word, Kreighen marched past Ijhel out of the observation lounge onto the main bridge. The crew was manning their stations, but with so many key systems off-line, there wasn't much to do. Even the main viewscreen was useless. Ijhel quickly caught up with him as he approached the Benzite woman in the captain's chair. "I've got an idea, Commander...er..."

"Mindek," she replied, realizing he hadn't learned her name since coming aboard. "And I am open to suggestions."

"I assume this ship is carrying unusual cargo that the Borg can smell through your cloak." He had to be careful here. Kreighen knew more about _Stormwind_ 's mission and the Omega Directive than his security clearance allowed. So he could infer the ship was carrying rare substances used to synthesize omega molecules, but he didn't dare say so. "That got them this far. But now they're like a bear smelling a candy bar in an invisible backpack."

"That fits the available information," Mindek said. "What can we do with that?"

"This is an _Akira_ -class carrier, so I'm betting your pilots know how to operate an attack fighter without a computer."

"That's right," she said, with considerable pride. "But we'd never be able to evacuate the entire ship."

"We're not evacuating. I can lead your squad on an attack run that will keep the Borg occupied. That'll give us time to regain control of the ship."

"Not much time," Mindek objected. They both knew flying a small spacecraft without a computer and using it to engage a capital ship were entirely different things. "How do you propose we bypass the security restrictions on the main computer?"

"Doctor Ijhel's the best programmer in the quadrant," he said, briefly looking over to watch her nod in agreement. "If anyone aboard can do it..."

"If she can," the tactical officer interjected, "where does that leave us? Even with the _Stormwind_ 's firepower, we're still one ship against a Borg cube."

Kreighen straightened at the challenge. "I've fought bigger cubes with less, Lieutenant." Returning his attention to Mindek, he added "I know we can do it, Commander. But I can't ask you to risk your people. Give me a fighter and I'll keep them busy by myself."

Mindek stroked one of the whiskers protruding from her lip. When she'd considered the matter fully, she stood up and issued her orders. "Doctor Ijhel," she began, "you're with me." She led the Cardassian towards the nearest turbolift. "I'll escort her to the computer core on my way to Shuttlebay One. Intra-ship communications are down, but I should be able to round up enough pilots to make this work." She glanced back to Kreighen. "You have the bridge, Commander."

"I do?"

She stopped short of the turbolift doors to clarify her orders. "Mister Kreighen, I am the _Stormwind_ 's wing commander. My place is to lead the squadron, which leaves you as the ranking officer to coordinate the overall mission."

"I can't...she's your ship, Mindek--"

"Yes, and that's why you must."

As the turbolift doors closed, Kreighen found himself taking one last look at Ijhel. He wanted to say _this is all your fault_ , if only as a half-joke. But he saw something he didn't expect, in her eyes. She looked worried, as though the pressure of saving the ship was more than she could bear. When he made eye contact, however, something in her face changed, as if she drew confidence from him. At once his failures and self-pity were immaterial. Perhaps he had let down Jimenez, and doomed the _Stormwind_. All he could do now, though, was make sure it didn't happen again.

Kreighen eased into the captain's chair, and grasped the armrests as though they might reach up and strangle him.


	2. Chapter 2

When Ijhel reached the computer core, she couldn't help but stop to admire it. It was a rare sight for any civilian, let alone a Cardassian. She knew her way around Federation hardware--the mainframe on Kreighen's shuttle, the _Hrunting_ , was second nature to her by now. But to actually stand in the access room of a starship was breathtaking.

Lieutenant Commander Mindek wanted to be sure she had what she needed. "You can use the central terminal, but the ODN relays are located--"

"Behind the multitronic batch processor, I know." Ijhel didn't even turn to look at her escort. "I can handle it from here. You'd better get to your fighters."

"Indeed." Mindek thankfully wasted no time on pleasantries, leaving Ijhel to focus on her work.

"Computer," Ijhel began, wiggling her fingers. "Identify the nature of the systems lockout." No response came. Good, she decided. That suggested the command pathways were blocked below the user interface layer. She didn't even bother with the terminal, and went straight to the ODN matrix. 

A few keystrokes let her run a stack trace on a simple process--telling the computer to present the current time. With a little more work, she had a function in place to calculate the difference in seconds since the lockouts were enacted. The answer to that query wasn't as important as identifying how the data was retrieved. The chronometer had to keep a record of the moment the lock occurred, which meant that the call stack knew which subroutine had applied the lock in the first place.

Ijhel dumped the subroutine call into the console. Thousands of lines of code raced along the monitor as she scanned them for some sign. There was no trick to this, no procedure that could be taught. Only a combination of lateral thinking and years of experience would lead her to the clue that would unravel the puzzle. That made it challenging, but also gave her hope. Starfleet clearly designed this program to defy all but its highest-ranking officers, but there was no program so advanced that it could hide its own secrets from a sufficiently talented analyst.

After only a few minutes, she decided this was getting her nowhere. There was simply too much code to sift through, spread around too many layers of abstraction. She needed some way to process it all, something she was more familiar with. And so Ijhel hit upon a radical idea. Her fingers flew across the touchpad transmitting a set of instructions for an LCARS request on the ODN network.

The response header was simple: "Doctor?"

"That's right," she wrote in a second request. She couldn't contain her pride. Communication systems were down throughout the ship, but she didn't need them to contact Sergeant Ajax. The holographic solider she'd designed for Starfleet was little more than software, tied into the network just as surely as any food dispenser or light switch. The only difference, at least to Ijhel, was that he could carry out more complex tasks. "I need you in the computer core. I have a plan to break the omega lockout."

The print out response was less than cooperative. "Are you authorized for that? You're only a civilian."

Considering the entire ship was perhaps minutes away from assimilation, she was in no mood to argue with him this time. "I HAVE ORDERS FROM COMMANDER KREIGHEN HIMSELF," she wrote back, "REPORT TO ME AT ONCE." Human culture assigned an odd urgency to unicameral script, so she hoped it might convey the same meaning to Ajax.

While she waited for him to arrive, she began working on the rest of her plan. Although the code related to the lockout was obfuscated, it was child's play to intercept the quadstream and add a hook for Ajax's holomatrix. Ajax himself would serve as a lexical analyzer, parsing Starfleet's algorithms into something she was more familiar with. As the idea developed in her head, it grew more and more complex, until Ijhel was frantically coding an entire suite of subroutines to manage this holo-lexer functionality. She grew lost in her own work, until the _Stormwind_ 's chief engineer entered the room.

"What the hell are you doing to my ship?" Master Chief Eudon was short on social graces.

Ijhel, could only respond to such hostility with the most disarming manners. "Ah! Forgive the intrusion, sir. I was asked to restore computer control, and under the circumstances, there wasn't time to brief the senior staff--"

"Shut up!" he bellowed. As a Zaldan, the chief refused to accept kindness as anything but a hollow ploy. That Ijhel, ever the Cardassian, _intended_ it as a hollow ploy only made things worse. "Shut your mouth before I shut it for you, you stupid sludge rat!"

"Sir, I'm only trying to--"

"I will be damned before I let some amateur tinker with ship's operations! Do you hear me?"

"Well, then, what would you suggest?"

" _Nothing!_ On my ship, I am the master, and you are but the learner! I have got five engineering crews working on this, and they don't need some half-witted Denebian toad getting in their way!"

"With all due respect to your team," Ijhel countered, refusing to back down, "My experience suggests that Starfleet engineers are somewhat...limited in their capacity for addressing such a pure, abstract computing problem as--"

"Abstract like hell!" Eudon shouted. "When the Borg start beaming in here, things are gonna be real, real concrete! Now get out of here, before you really piss me off!"

His challenge to her authority was...impressive, but Ijhel wasn't about to risk everything by giving in to this hothead. "Sir, I'm not going to fight you over this. Now, I am sorry to have to put it so bluntly, but I am simply more qualified than anyone on this ship to repair--"

The word "sorry" made the veins pop out of his neck. "I will _show_ you 'bluntly,'" he roared. With that, Eudon literally lifted Ijhel by the collar of her tunic, and began to carry her out of the chamber.

That was how Ajax found them when he arrived.

He was designed to execute Starfleet military policy, through a rigorous obedience to Starfleet protocol. Beyond that, the kernel of his program was a medical tool, hardwired to do no harm. Since he had been activated by Doctor Ijhel, he had shown little respect for the persnickety Cardassian scientist who fell outside his chain of command. So when he found a superior officer about to toss her into the corridor, his duty was clear.

Ajax punched the Zaldan right in the mouth.

Ijhel found herself dropped on the floor, with a ringside seat to watch the towering engineer brawl with her creation. She'd seen Ajax in combat before, but this was not combat. This was...something else. And for at least a few minutes, it transfixed her as surely as any computer core.


	3. Chapter 3

Kreighen spent the first twenty-four minutes of his command wearing out the carpet on the bridge. Until Ijhel could defeat the Omega Directive lockouts, there was very little commanding he could do.

It was tempting to stay near a window, hoping to keep an eye out for Mindek's squad, but he'd quickly dismissed that as pointless. Whether Mindek was staying a step ahead of the cube or going down in flames, there was nothing anyone aboard the _Stormwind_ could do about it. The best plan was be ready as soon as the ship was operational.

For the sixth time, he surveyed the bridge, and the people Mindek had left under his command. The man at tactical was Lieutenant Narb-Uzek. A Grazerite weapons officer was practically a contradiction in terms, so Kreighen was almost anxious to see him in action. The ensign assigned to ops, Mounika Godavarthy, never looked up from her station. He could imagine how much pressure she was under, since she'd be the first one to know when computer control had been restored. Ensign M'praa, a Caitian male, was at the helm--this was Mindek's usual post. Over at the aft stations, Lieutenant Adaora Robinson was the ranking science officer.

The wait was driving him crazy, and it couldn't have been much better for the others. If only to give them something to focus on, he approached tactical. "Do we know how many fighters Mindek was able to launch?"

Narb-Uzek nodded. "Internal sensors are limited, but I can account for twenty ships in our shuttlebays. The other seven must have made it into space."

Kreighen then strolled to one of the aft stations, and found a young Bajoran man managing communications. "Crewman...Eppna, right?"

"Aye, sir."

The commander had a look at the station's monitor--with the lockouts in place, there was no traffic to manage. "Bored to tears, I bet."

"A little, sir."

"I want you to prepare a shipwide alert," he explained. "All available pilots are to report to the shuttlebays, and get the rest of those fighters spaceborne to relieve Mindek's squad. Send that out the second we get communications back. That way I'll have one less thing to worry about."

That minor piece of business handled, Kreighen returned to his chair. The feeling of having accomplished something faded quickly, though, and he again felt like climbing the bulkheads. He felt as if the entire bridge crew was staring at him, waiting for his next move, waiting to see what sort of leader he was.

"Sir!" Godavarthy nearly jumped up from her chair. "It's--!"

But there was no need to describe what was happening. All around them, the beeping and chirping of the bridge returned to normal. Monitors suddenly showed actual information again. And the enormous omega glyph on the viewscreen fell away to reveal a crisp view of outer space. Ijhel had done it.

"M'praa, take evasive action!" That was the first priority. The Borg had presumably been looking for the _Stormwind_ for nearly half an hour, and it stood to reason that they were getting too close. "Robinson, I need the status of our cloak! And somebody get me that cube on the main viewer!"

"Cloaking device operating within normal parameters." Robinson paused, waiting for some of the instruments to complete their startup routines. "Tetryon emissions are nominal. Best guess is that the Borg detected the tetryon wake we generated at warp, but we've been adrift long enough that the trail's gone cold."

"Sir," Eppna announced, "Shuttlebay One reporting that the second squad of fighters is away. Third wave now mobilizing."

Kreighen gave a half-hearted wave to the communications officer, but kept his attention on the viewscreen. At last, Narb-Uzek was able to locate the Borg cube. It was by now some distance away from the _Stormwind_ , evidently searching in the wrong direction. Mindek's fighters were buzzing the cube like gnats, cloaking and decloaking. He strained to count the tiny ships, but there was no way to be sure if all seven of Mindek's squad were still in the fight. The only thing he could really do for them was to destroy the enemy.

"All right, people..." He stood up from his chair and made himself the center of attention. "We've only got one shot while we still have the element of surprise. I want to make it a good one. Can we hit them with a jammer pulse?"

"Subspace domain disruptors are online," Narb-Uzek reported. "But I don't recommend using them. The jamming signal of one ship is too weak to neutralize an entire cube."

Kreighen wasn't deterred. "Robinson, could we turn up the volume by using the navigational deflector?"

"It's similar in design to a Borg interplexing beacon," she decided. "We could do it, but I'm not sure we'd be going anywhere for a while."

"Then it's off the table," he winced. "We need to take care of this cube and go after Admiral Janeway, as soon as possible."

"Excuse me, Captain." It was tradition to call the commanding officer of a ship "captain," regardless of rank, but Godavarthy didn't know how much it irritated Kreighen. "I was thinking about the deflector array, and it occurred to me we don't have to overload it, because the jammers require a very powerful signal to interfere with Borg communications, but a less powerful signal could just overlay their transmissions..."

"Overlay with what?" Narb-Uzek countered. "We could try to plant false commands, but that would give away our position before we got anywhere."

"We need an invasive program," Kreighen decided. "Something to generate an exponential memory leak. Do we have anything like that on file?"

"Accessing," Robinson answered.

"Good." Kreighen returned to his chair. "Mister Eppna, have an engineering team report to the deflector array. Narb-Uzek, ready the energy dissipators for a wide spread. Helm, set a new course, heading zero one three mark zero two one."

"Sir?" M'praa saw where that heading would lead, and turned in his chair to face Kreighen. "That would put us on a strafing run across their hull."

"Exactly," the reluctant captain smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

The Borg's sensors didn't detect the _Stormwind_ until it was passing by at full impulse, bombarding the cube with a salvo of dissipator charges. Light crackled across the Borg hull, as the energy dampening effect leeched power from key systems. It would take more than this one assault to defeat the cube, but the effect was still catastrophic for the Borg. In an instant, large portions of the ship were rendered inoperable, and the crew's hive mind had to focus on sealing off the affected decks. It would take time--not much, but a small window--for the ship to adapt to the sudden change in status. Kreighen planned to make the most of that time.

"Come about," he ordered. "Where are we at on our logic bomb?"

"Modifications to the deflector array are complete," Godavarthy reported.

"I've got a virus that should bring them to their knees," Robinson added, "but it won't take long for them to shake it off."

"We won't need long." Kreighen called up a tactical display on one of his personal consoles. "I want to broadcast the signal when we're within seven thousand kilometers, then decloak and raise shields. I don't think we'll be able to hide from them in a minute."

It was usually unthinkable for a ship in the Federation Alliance to use its cloaking device during an engagement with the Borg. It would be suicidal to allow the Collective to gain enough information about the cloak to overcome it, so standard procedure was to eschew it while in sensor range. But the stakes were too high to even consider failure. If the _Stormwind_ was defeated here, the Alliance would have much bigger things to worry about than cloaking devices. So Kreighen was playing to win, and to leave it all in the ring if he had to.

The starship's deflector dish emitted its malicious signal, then immediately emerged from invisibility. It took several long seconds for the Borg to react, and by the time they opened fire the _Stormwind_ 's shields were up. "Fire polaron cannons," Kreighen ordered. "Let's carve 'em up."

Polaron beams etched deep into the the same facet of the cube that the dissipators had struck. The Borg's defense screens were completely dead on that side, and so it was all too easy to cut their ship to the quick. The _Stormwind_ stayed in tight, preventing weapons on the more functional sides of the cube from being trained on the attacker until it was away.

Kreighen approached ops and leaned in to Godavarthy. "Watch our aft shields--if I know the Borg, they'll try to tractor us in." He turned to Narb-Uzek at tactical. "I want to hit them the second they try to hit us."

"Aft isomagnetic disintegrator armed and ready," the weapons officer responded. "Reading energy buildup in Borg tractor emitter...firing. Direct hit." Narb-Uzek sounded like he was reading an obituary. "Power overload in their distribution nodes. Captain, life signs are becoming highly erratic."

"That one shot killed the whole crew?" M'praa wondered.

Kreighen shook his head. "More like they're redirecting their collective consciousness to damage control. But either way, they won't be giving us much of a fight. Come about for another pass, and we'll finish--"

"Sir!" Robinson stood up from her station. "They're redirecting power from life support to propulsion--!"

"Hard to starboard!" Kreighen shouted. His timing was perfect--in another second, the _Stormwind_ would have been struck when the Borg charged forward at top sublight speed.

Godavarthy looked around the bridge, searching for some explanation for what just happened. When she found none, she could only speculate. "Did they--did they just try to _ram_ us?"

"I don't think they're done trying," Kreighen replied. "M'praa, use evasive pattern xi omicron. We'll have to keep our distance."

Narb-Uzek didn't dare take his eyes off his readouts, for fear the cube might make another sudden move. "I've studied Borg tactics for most of my career," he said. "I've never seen any indication they would resort to this."

Kreighen had a good idea what might motivate them. From what he knew of Starfleet's Omega Directive, it was intended to protect the secret of a powerful energy source...one that the Borg regarded with an almost religious fervor. This cube had come looking for the _Stormwind_ because it was carrying vital material for synthesizing omega molecules, and it wasn't going to quit until it accomplished that mission. However, he wasn't prepared to explain _how_ he could know any of that, so he kept his theory to himself. All that mattered now was that there was no hope of simply crippling the cube and leaving it adrift in space.

"Arm quantum torpedoes," he ordered. "High yield, narrow spread. Fire at will."

The rest was academic. Even at its best, a Borg vessel would take damage from a volley of zero-point energy warheads. This cube, which had evidently lost even the capacity to fire weapons, erupted into flames as the torpedoes penetrated its hull. Explosions went off all over the enormous ship, and yet it still lumbered through space, desperately attempting to subdue the _Stormwind_. Eventually, propulsion systems must have been knocked out by the cascading destruction, and the cube ground to a halt.

"All stop," Kreighen muttered to the helmsman. "Mister Narb-Uzek, coordinate with our fighters to return to the ship." There was much to do, but he couldn't even begin until they picked up the rest of the crew. So he stood in the center of the bridge, staring quietly at the burning cube on the viewscreen. A half hour earlier, he'd feared it unstoppable, and was ready to surrender to the inevitable. It was actually difficult to remember his thoughts at that point--the idea of giving in now seemed alien to him, as it had before Jimenez's betrayal.

Jimenez. He'd put the matter out of his mind, but with the battle over he could afford to dwell on it again. The kid left the _Stormwind_ acting as if he was going to deliver Admiral Janeway to the Borg. But if he was serious about defecting, why not simply board the cube that was now crumbling in space? Where else would he have to go?

His only hope for getting answers was the crew of the _Stormwind_. Sooner or later, Captain Lancaster would recover from his injuries, and it would be up to him whether the ship joined Kreighen's mission. And so the commander quietly prepared himself for the litany of questions he would soon face...


	5. Chapter 5

> Captain's log, stardate 63583.4
> 
> The court-martial of Admiral Janeway has come to an unexpected end, following the intervention of Jacob Kreighen and the crew of his shuttlecraft, the _Hrunting_. Kreighen's testimony absolved the admiral of misconduct, though his engineer, Nathan Jimenez, disapproved. Jimenez abducted the admiral and fled the _Stormwind_ aboard Kreighen's shuttle. I was wounded by a sustained stun beam during the altercation, though Doctor Ben-Aharon has declared my recovery complete. However, Janeway's adjutant, Elglen, was...more seriously injured and remains in critical condition.
> 
> Upon my return to duty, I have been informed that the _Stormwind_ is fully operational, and is traveling deeper into Borg space in search of the _Hrunting_. I have ordered a conference to assess the situation more thoroughly.

Captain Lancaster's log entry was dry and unnecessarily formal, but then again so was Captain Lancaster. The very model of Starfleet protocol, he would be damned before failing to make a proper record in his log. With that obligation finished, he left his office to join the senior staff in the briefing room.

Mindek, Ben-Aharon, Narb-Uzek, Robinson, and Godavarthy were at their usual places around the table. Commander Kreighen and Doctor Ijhel sat furthest from the captain's chair. Sergeant Ajax was content to stand, as if standing guard over Kreighen and Ijhel.

"Status report," Lancaster said flatly as he took his seat.

"The _Stormwind_ is in remarkable condition," Mindek began, "considering what she's been through. Plasma flow regulators were shaken up when the Omega Directive forced us out of warp. There are scattered reports of computer-related problems..." She felt Ijhel's stare from across the table. "...however I'd say it was worth any minor hiccups to regain control of the ship. Several of our fighters took damage against the Borg, but only minor injuries were sustained."

"My staff is treating those injuries," Ben-Aharon added, "no worries."

"Shields and weapons are nominal," Narb-Uzek added. "No sign of Borg activity along our present course."

Lancaster interrupted. "And what course is that?"

Kreighen was quick to speak, before anyone could try to shield him from blame. "Sir, while I was in command, I ordered the _Stormwind_ to pursue the _Hrunting_. We've determined that it's headed into Borg space, directly towards Intercomplex 934."

"A popular destination these days," Lancaster observed. Before he could continue, the door hissed open to reveal the ship's chief engineer, his face red with outrage.

"I'm late because the damn medics wouldn't let me leave--" Eudon stopped in mid-rant when he saw who was in the room. "Who the hell invited _them_ here?" he thundered, stabbing his finger in the direction of Ijhel and Ajax.

Lancaster stood up to confront Eudon. " _I_ did."

If that was supposed to intimidate the Zaldan, he didn't show it. "Are you out of your mind? That hologram separated my shoulder!"

Ajax took a step forward. "You put your hands on...on a member of my crew--!"

"This is _not_ the time!" the captain shouted above them. "We have more far more pressing matters with which to attend. Commander Kreighen, I suggest you begin by telling us why Ensign Jimenez would want to take Admiral Janeway to Intercomplex 934."

Kreighen nodded. "I can't tell you much about that, Captain. The _Hrunting_ was assigned to work with Unimatrix Zero, and we helped plan the offensive that captured the intercomplex from the Borg. But I don't know what significance it has to Nathan. We've never actually been there--our shuttle was separated from the Zero fleet shortly before the attack began.

"On our way back into Alliance-controlled space, we picked up Ensign Merrani Vystir, who was recently imprisoned for relaying tactical information to the Borg. Vystir and Jimenez were in nearly constant telepathic contact after that. I believe she's convinced him to help her defect to the Borg."

The _Stormwind_ 's officers were bewildered by that idea. "Respectfully, Commander," Narb-Uzek said, "why would anyone _want_ to be assimilated?"

Ijhel decided she could explain. "You must understand, we have effectively been exiled behind enemy lines for the better part of a year. Our mission was a death sentence. When we were compelled to return, Nathan and I were quietly shipped off to a penal colony for unreformed Borg drones. We saw witnessed several forms of abuse that the young ensign never imagined his government could be capable of. Improbable as it may sound to Starfleet officers, I believe Nathan has decided that the Borg is the lesser of two evils in this war. Watching Commander Kreighen lie to cover up Janeway's crimes was, as humans say, the last straw."

"I see." Lancaster could tell that Kreighen was trying to conceal his irritation with that last sentence. "Enlighten me, then, Mister Kreighen. You came all this way in your shuttle, returning from enemy space and crossing back into it again. You successfully intercepted this ship, and came aboard in an armed raid. And your purpose in all of this was to interrupt the court-martial of a woman who illegally exiled you, so that you could perjure yourself on her behalf. To what end?"

Kreighen sighed, but had his answer ready. "To save the galaxy," he said. "Captain, what I'm about to say may be even more incredible than what you've already heard. But there is a threat in this region of space far greater than the Borg. And Admiral Janeway is the only one who can prevent the Collective from assimilating it."


	6. Chapter 6

Kreighen got up from his chair to circle the conference table, putting his thoughts in order. "A few weeks after we were assigned to work with Unimatrix Zero, we became separated from their forces and stranded in uncharted Borg space. During that time, we encountered a race the Borg have designated 'Species 10538.' Their technology seems to be based on their vast psionic power, which even the Collective can't overcome. They're not very particular about who they attack; they're a danger to the entire quadrant.

"Species 10538 came into existence about fourteen years ago, when the starship _Voyager_ experimented with breaking the warp 10 barrier. That research fell into the hands of the Kazon, and at least one sect, the Jeptruux, recreated _Voyager_ 's test flights. The effects of approaching the transwarp threshold changed them somehow. Hundreds--possibly thousands--of Kazon were transformed, and began calling themselves the Xhiryptyr'x.

"Based on what I've seen, the Xhiryptyr'x don't fully understand what they've become. When they crossed the threshold, their thoughts became reality, and they were fixated on achieving unlimited power. These are transcendent beings who still live like hotheaded, nomadic warlords. So far the Borg have been unable to learn anything about their true potential, but if they were ever assimilated it would be a disaster."

"I'm afraid I don't see your point," Captain Lancaster interjected. "What is it you expect Admiral Janeway to do about this?"

"Last month I discovered that Unimatrix Zero has been capturing and conscripting the Xhiryptyr'x," Kreighen continued. "General Korok and the Zeroes don't know what they're dealing with either--they surgically inhibited their slaves' mental abilities, to make them easier to control. So when the Zeroes force the Xhiryptyr'x to fight on their behalf, the Borg just perceive them as Kazon, unworthy of assimilation."

Robinson saw what he was driving at. "The Collective could assimilate these conscripts, but they don't see the point. And they'd like to assimilate this 'Species 10538,' but they don't know how. If they ever make the connection..."

"Exactly." Kreighen returned to his seat. "Unimatrix Zero has to stop exposing the Borg to this species. And I don't think they'll accept that from anyone but Janeway. She's the only one with the perspective to grasp the problem, and the political leverage to bring everyone else in line."

"Which places us in a very curious position," Lancaster added, "since the admiral just attempted to hand this ship and its crew over to the Borg."

Ijhel leaned in, perturbed by that statement. "I don't understand, Captain...what led you to that conclusion?"

"The admiral ordered the _Stormwind_ on a secret mission in Borg space," he explained. "When I questioned those orders, she attempted to flee the ship, and then implemented the Omega Directive. She refused to release the lockouts, unless I allowed her to dismebark. At the same time, Doctor Ben-Aharon discovered that the anti-assimilation drugs in the crew were losing potency. I believe Janeway's intent was for the Borg to capture this vessel and assimilate the details of our mission."

"Disinformation," Kreighen realized.

The captain went on. "Evidently, the Federation Alliance intends to launch a major offensive at a particular location in Borg space. To that end, they sought to misdirect the Borg to marshal their forces at _another_ location, leaving the Alliance's actual target relatively defenseless. The Borg covet nothing so much as the mysterious 'omega' molecule, for which Janeway's bloody Directive is named. Synthesis of the omega molecule requires various rare and valuable materials. Our mission was to deliver just such materials...to Intercomplex 934."

"Then we would have failed," seethed Eudon. "Because we never received that cargo in the first place. When I found out the Borg were coming I said 'to hell with security clearances.' I tried to dump Janeway's crap out into space so that cube wouldn't have to go through us to get it. But all that was in there was a damn positronic beacon, designed to interfere with our cloak."

"That seems to confirm that we were never meant to complete our mission," Narb-Uzek observed. "Which suggests that Unimatrix Zero was meant to defend Intercomplex 734 from a large-scale Borg assault _without_ the benefit of this omega molecule." The Grazerite turned solemnly to Kreighen. "If your story about conscripts is true, then Korok would need to gather as many as possible at his base. It appears your fears may be justified."

"I don't see the problem," Godavarthy said. "The Borg have not assimilated us, so they have no urgent reason to attack the intercomplex, so it doesn't matter if the Xhiryptyr'x are gathered there."

Mindek, pedantic as ever, was happy to spell it out. "There are two problems, Ensign. First, if Korok gathers his forces for an attack that never comes, he will inevitably decide to go on the offensive. Either way, the likelihood that the Borg will discover the truth about the Xhiryptyr'x will increase. Second, since the Borg aren't on their way to attack the intercomplex, they also won't be diverted from the Alliance's actual target."

"And Janeway's the only person in this sector who knows where that target is," Kreighen surmised. "We need her to order the Alliance to call off their attack, and convince Unimatrix Zero to demobilize."

"Is it possible Ensign Jimenez arrived at the same conclusion?" Lancaster asked.

Kreighen considered it, but couldn't make it fit. "I honestly don't see how, Captain. He didn't know most of what I've told you--frankly, I wasn't planning to tell anyone but the admiral herself." He scratched at the beard he'd grown in exile, trying to think of something he'd missed. "But he's smart enough to have figured out that she was up to _something_ , even if he doesn't know what it is. If he decides to make her talk..."

No one completed that thought...not out loud. It had to be assumed that Jimenez would take that kind of information to the enemy. Not that anyone expected Janeway to break, of course--the admiral would sooner die. That alternative looked equally catastrophic.

"Let's redouble our efforts," Lancaster told his staff. "Find that shuttlecraft, and get me the best possible speed to catch up with her." It wasn't much of a plan, but it was all they had for now.


	7. Chapter 7

After the conference, Doctor Ijhel was escorted to guest quarters. Although her work on the ship's computer was appreciated, there simply wasn't much need for a Cardassian programmer during the rest of the mission. She couldn't complain about that. After months of living aboard the _Hrunting_ , she was happy to be aboard a starship with a crew large enough to have no use for her.

There was a sofa in the center of the room; she quickly collapsed onto it. "Computer," she said, after a long sigh, "raise the room temperature to 32...no, 35C. And dim the lights."

Ajax watched over her like a hawk. If the _Stormwind_ had no role for a programmer, the ship certainly had none for her program. He was designed to be copied into an army of holographic soldiers, but the other instances of his program--and the equipment to produce more--had been confiscated by Starfleet. Under the circumstances, he might have reported to Commander Kreighen for orders. But Kreighen now had actual officers to work with, and there were no duties left for an artificial one. So there was nothing to do but make himself available for whatever diagnostics Ijhel might perform.

When she reached to pull of her shoes, he saw her wince in pain. Reflexively, he approached her. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"It's nothing," she muttered. "Just a little memento from that 'rehabilitation' facility where Starfleet tried to get rid of me."

That didn't reassure him. In seconds he'd crossed the room to take a closer look at her shoulder. "What did they do to you?"

"I'm _telling you_ ," she insisted, "it's nothing. They just handled me a bit roughly by the neck--"

It didn't matter. Ajax was already hovering behind her, getting a better look at the large, Cardassian ridges running from the mastoid process to the acromioclavicular joint. "Some tension on the left hypertrapezius. You shouldn't dismiss this," he explained as he began to massage the ridge. "It's a very sensitive--"

She gasped, and each of them immediately pulled away from one another. "I--I know," she replied. Ajax's holomatrix was based on a medical program, and contained kiloquads of comparative xenoanatomy. He didn't need to be reminded where a Cardassian's erogenous zones were located.

"I...I didn't intend..."

"It's...fine," she stressed. "I'll be fine."

"You say that," Ajax argued, "but you sounded awfully sure that Jimenez was traumatized enough in that prison to betray the Federation."

"He's human," Ijhel countered. "They have a lower tolerance for despair. Honestly, Sergeant, they merely badgered me with racial slurs and locked me in a sensory deprivation chamber. I wouldn't volunteer to repeat the experience, but I have no more cause to complain than you do about that unfortunate incident with Glinn Ledret..."

He approached her again. "You still blame yourself for that."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You blame yourself for letting him tamper with my program to inflict 'pain.' I don't hold you responsible for that, you know."

Ijhel wrinkled her nose and threw up her hands. "What difference does it make what you think? Your opinions are a collection of booleans returned by first order functions I wrote! Why am I even talking to you?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Perhaps it's because you have no one else to talk to."

She began to protest, but couldn't. "I suppose you're right. On the _Hrunting_ there were no 'off-duty' moments to fill." Ijhel looked around, struggling to come up with some new topic of discussion. But they were both very professional individuals, who struggled to get along on even a professional level. Eventually the silence grew too long and she simply said what was on her mind. "I...don't blame you, either."

"For what?"

"For anything." She could see his confusion, and stopped him short of another question so she could clarify. "It's been clear for some time that you're...protective of me. But obviously I've had more than my share of dangerous incidents over these past few months. And it occurred to me...that you...might hold yourself responsible."

"Perhaps," he mumbled. "When Admiral Janeway activated me here, I didn't know what had happened to the rest of you. I was...worried..."

"Well, I was worried about you as well. For all I knew, Starfleet had decompiled your program."

"For all _I_ knew, they'd..." He trailed off. "You're right. I've become preoccupied with your well-being."

"I don't think there's cause for concern," Ijhel assured him. "Kreighen and the others anthropomorphize you, and that input leads you to project human qualities on yourself. I'm sure it's nothing."

For once, he couldn't argue with his programmer. "If you say so. But perhaps you should deactivate me, just to be safe."

"I...don't think that's really necessary."

"Are you sure, Doctor? It's possible that my altercation with Chief Eudon was the result of this...flaw."

"Actually..." She started looking around the room again, as if some escape hatch might be found. "Well, to tell the truth...Jimenez has gone mad, Kreighen thinks the galaxy is in danger, and we could all be dead in a few hours. I...don't think I want to be alone right now, Sergeant."

Ajax blinked. Several times. "Then...what do you want to do with me?"

"Ahem...hrm..." She knew he didn't mean it like that. "I...don't..."

"Excuse me, Doctor, but you're looking rather warm," he interrupted. His immediate diagnosis was that she'd increased the temperature to a Cardassian comfort level, but was still dressed for the usual Starfleet standard conditions. "I recommend that you remove some of your clothing."

Ijhel glared at him, and suddenly wished she had majored in subspace networking instead.


	8. Chapter 8

The forward section of the _Hrunting_ was as quiet as a tomb, and nearly as dim. Jimenez had tuned the user interfaces to emit as little light and sound as possible. Even under cloak, the shuttle would need every possible edge to avoid detection. The resulting ambiance was not exactly like a Borg ship, but close enough to seem appropriate.

He piloted the ship in silence, not even examining his own thoughts. There was nothing left to examine. Had he betrayed the Federation? No, the Federation betrayed him with exile and wrongful imprisonment. The Federation he thought he knew--to which he thought he'd sworn and oath--never existed. Had he betrayed Kreighen? No, the commander had betrayed him by siding with the Federation. Was there any other choice but to defect to the Borg? No, because the Federation was the closest thing to a flawless society he had known, and even it had been debased by deceit and hypocrisy.

The Borg had been right, all along. He took no pleasure in this, but it was futile to deny it. The solution wasn't to resist them, but to accept the inevitable. However hopeless their vision might seem, it at least promised to eliminate hopelessness. And so he would do everything he could to end the war, and force the Federation and its allies to embrace defeat.

The door leading to the aft section opened, and Merrani Vystir slid in. Since they had commandeered the shuttle, she'd taken the opportunity to get cleaned up. It was perhaps her first sonic shower since being sentenced to prison. Her hair was now intricately coiffed, and she had replaced her uniform with a simple garment designed to cover her integument in an efficient, Borg-like manner. She was, incidentally, more lovely than Jimenez had ever seen her.

He didn't care anymore. Vystir was a Betazoid, and suffered from an acute need for constant telepathic contact with those around her. Since they had met, they'd become closer than Jimenez had thought possible. He did not deny her sexual charm, but by now such impulses were constant, even routine. There was no cause to admire her now, since he had been in her mind during her entire shower. There was nothing hidden between them, and therefore nothing to discuss...or even express.

Jimenez only turned to look at Vystir when she approached the helm to relieve him. He already knew why. She had spent the past three hours attempting to obtain information from Admiral Janeway, to no avail. There was no course of action left but for Jimenez confront her personally.

So he got up from his seat, without a word, and went straight to the back of the shuttle, where Janeway was locked in a makeshift "brig." The admiral glared up at him, with a smile that suggested she was losing, but not for long.

"We need to know what you know," he finally muttered.

"Your Betazoid friend was here long enough to read my mind."

"Except you're exercising some sort of mental exercise to block her out." Jimenez paused to wonder if that was how Kreighen kept her out of his mind as well, but that was irrelevant now. "The Vulcan techniques I learned weren't as...thorough."

"I suppose that depends on which Vulcans you know," she shrugged. "If she sent you back here to beat it out of me, I should warn you that I've been having a particularly bad day."

"That would be...pointless."

She stared into his eyes. "Then why _are_ you here?"

He couldn't answer that. Anything he might have wanted to say to her could have been relayed through Vystir. He couldn't come up with a good reason for showing up, and that rattled him. Was she getting to him? Did he lack the resolve to see this through? Before he could surrender to his doubts, though, Vystir sensed his concerns and reassured him.

"I wanted you to tell you that you've failed," he finally answered.

"It's a little early to make that call."

"I'm not talking about the war!" Jimenez snapped. "I'm talking about your duty...to Starfleet, the Federation...the people under your command."

"Ensign..." Janeway stood up, approaching the jury-rigged force field between them. "I have had about enough of justifying myself to subordinates, so I will make this brief. Everything I have done is to defend the Federation from the Borg--"

"Does that include forcing me to go into exile, for something I didn't do?"

"Ensign, my first duty is to the fleet--"

"And now your fleet is going to lose this war," he fumed. "Because your big plan was to sweep me under the rug, and it didn't work. You violated regulations to flush my career away for nothing."

"So you're mad at me," Janeway argued, "and that makes it worth abandoning Earth?"

Jimenez began to laugh. "Do you even listen to yourself? I can't go back to Earth, because they put you in charge, and you hung me out to dry!"

"That was about Kreighen--"

"Well, you're not dealing with Kreighen anymore, are you?" He began to wander around the room. "If I'm a threat to the Federation, then it's because you made me into one. The most Kreighen could have done is expose your lies and end your career. I'm going to expose the corruption within all of Starfleet, and end the Federation itself. How many lives are lost in the process depends on your cooperation."

Janeway shook her head, and returned to her seat. "Getting ahead of ourselves, aren't we? You may be foolish enough to want to join the Borg, but that doesn't mean you can waltz into the first cube you see and sign up."

"That depends," Jimenez retorted. "Merrani can't get much from you, but she did glean surface thoughts from some of the people on the _Stormwind_. And they thought you'd done something to the crew's anti-assimilation regimen. So you might as well tell me, Admiral...what _will_ happen if we find a Borg vessel?"


	9. Chapter 9

Janeway refused to let Jimenez see her sweat. "For the sake of argument," she told him, "let's suppose that I would have anything to gain by making it easier for the Borg to assimilate the _Stormwind_ 's crew. It stands to reason that I would have taken steps to protect myself. It also stands to reason that any plan to tamper with the ship's supply of similinhibitizine wouldn't affect someone who was only aboard for fifteen minutes."

For a moment this frustrated Jimenez, but then he--and Vystir--decided that this answer still worked in his favor. "We think you do have something to gain," he smiled. "You want them to be assimilated. You're up to something that's worth sacrificing an entire starship."

"Listen to me, Ensign." Janeway's tone was firm, but not as resolute. Her poker face was slipping. "You're letting this grudge of yours blind you to reality. We're not talking about requesting asylum at the Romulan embassy, or selling out to the Orion Syndicate. The Borg will strip you of your identity and everything that makes you an individual. I know them better than anyone in Starfleet..."

"No, you don't." He turned away from her, disgusted. "You've fought the Borg, negotiated with them, cooperated with them, liberated them, betrayed them. I've done all of that, too. But I've _talked_ to the Borg. People born into the Collective. People _still in_ the Collective. People who wanted to return to the Collective. I've been linked to their minds. And you know what I've learned? It isn't so bad.

"Everybody in Starfleet acts like the Borg turn you into an automatons. Well maybe that's what happens to your body, but your mind is still there! Your essence becomes part of a superorganism. And yeah, you can't act as an individual. But on that level of consciousness, maybe it's not as important!"

"You're talking about being an expendable cog in a soulless machine..."

His full attention snapped back to her. "Better than being a discarded cog in _your_ machine, Admiral."

Vystir returned from the shuttle's cockpit, and at that moment Jimenez stepped away from Janeway's cell to attend to other business. The pair moved about the aft section without a word, configuring a subspace transceiver to remodulate an incoming signal.

"Care to let me in on the conversation?" Janeway asked. They ignored her. When their work was completed, they stood at attention before a monitor, with their backs to the admiral.

The screen flickered to life, revealing the interior of a Borg vessel. "WE ARE THE BORG," the transmission began. "YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS WILL BE ADDED TO OUR OWN."

"Borg vessel," Jimenez responded. "We wish to disclose tactical information on Intercomplex 934."

"DISCLOSURE IS IRRELEVANT. YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED. DISARM YOUR WEAPONS AND LOWER YOUR SHIELDS."

"We cannot comply," Jimenez continued, "until we are safe from interception by Federation forces. It will take time for you to adapt to assimilate us. We propose to use that time to assist you."

"NEGOTIATION IS IRRELEVANT. THERE ARE NO TERMS."

They were as stubborn as ever, but Jimenez had Vystir to help him maintain his composure. "The Federation Alliance is attempting to divert your forces to Intercomplex 934."

Janeway's jaw was set. "Ensign..."

"It is an attempt at deception," Jimenez elaborated. "You must maintain your defensive positions, and prepare for a large-scale attack."

The image of the Borg ship became jumbled, and faded into subspace static. When the resolution was recovered, the image had changed. Jimenez and Vystir were now greeted by a close-up of a Borg woman, with chrome eyes and a crown of conduits.

Caught up in the moment, Vystir squeezed Jimenez's hand. " _Imzadi_ ," she murmured.

Jimenez didn't so much as blink. "The Borg Queen, I presume."

"Hello, Nathan," came the reply. "It seems you have adapted to service us." She tilted her head to examine his associate. "Species 1599."

A tear rolled down Vystir's cheek. "We...we are Borg," she whimpered.

"You will be," the Queen smiled, before looking past them both. She muttered a single word, with the collective contempt of a billion billion beings: " _Janeway._ "

The admiral replied with a sardonic grin and a wave. "So lovely to see you again."

"We're prepared to do with her as you see fit," Vystir explained. "She will make an excellent drone."

"Oh yes." Janeway couldn't contain her grim amusement. "That worked out so well for you the last time, didn't it?"

"Indeed," the Queen said, only just concealing her scorn. "For now, you are all more valuable to us with your individuality intact. We require further information about this...diversion."

"We've had little success interrogating Janeway," Vystir admitted. She seemed almost giddy to present her failure to the one authority she recognized. "But resistance is futile."

"And irrelevant in this instance."

That upset Vystir, and Jimenez felt it. "Respectfully," he said, "we don't see any other way to help you learn where the Alliance will launch their offensive..."

"We are Borg," the Queen stated. "The offensive will fail. We are more concerned with Intercomplex 934. You will assist us in determining its tactical strengths and weaknesses."

Jimenez and Vystir exchanged curious glances before responding. "We can...try, I guess. But Unimatrix Zero won't exactly welcome us aboard..."

"You will adapt." The Queen cocked her head at an odd angle, and then looked straight ahead. "Zero point zero three two eight eight five. We'll see you soon, Nathan." And then signal abruptly cut off.

Vystir stared at the black monitor for several seconds, and then at her partner. "Wh-what did she mean by that?"

Janeway, for her part, curled up on the bench in her makeshift cell, studying her captors closely.


	10. Chapter 10

Left with the Borg Queen's cryptic message, Jimenez and Vystir set to work trying to understand her intentions. Within about two minutes, they silently agreed that Janeway was a distraction they could no longer tolerate, and returned the foredeck of the _Hrunting_.

Vystir was deeply upset. It had been years since she decided that Borg culture suited her peculiar social needs, and she had spent that time dreaming of the day she would greet the embodiment of that culture. But the Queen seemed dismissive of her, and more interested in Jimenez. There was no rational basis for this conclusion (why would the Queen distinguish between them?) but she couldn't avoid it. For all that she strived for the ideal Borg lifestyle, Vystir was still only an individual, prone to small emotional concerns. By sharing their thoughts, she and Jimenez could better resist their doubts and fears, but it was no Borg Collective.

"I am unworthy of assimilation," she eventually mumbled aloud.

Jimenez looked up from his workstation and put his hand on her shoulder. "That's not true."

"You heard the way she spoke to me," she went on. "She sees through me. I play at what she has achieved. I could never attain perfection..."

He wrapped his arms around her. "Merrani, nobody's perfect. Even the Borg are still working on it. I have to believe that when they assimilate the entire galaxy, they aren't going to just stand pat as a half-mechanical pseudo-race. They'll-- _we'll_ transcend all that and evolve into an...an existential singularity."

This intrigued her. "Nathan...your thoughts of that are so...beautiful..." She suddenly returned to her self-pity. "I am small...limited. I derive primitive pleasure from physical intimacy." She pushed out of his embrace.

"Come off of it," he told her. "I'm pretty sure most of the Borg liked to get laid before they were assimilated. You don't have to live up to their standard of perfection to add to it. But we _do_ have to find out what the Queen wants from us."

Vystir slowly nodded, and focused her thoughts on the series of numbers the Queen had recited. _Zero point zero three two eight eight five._ It couldn't be the frequency of a signal, and the format didn't lend itself to a set of coordinates or a navigation heading. Try as she might, Vystir couldn't commit her full attention to the problem. Her insecurity about her fitness for assimilation began to snowball, as the insecurity itself became cause for self-doubt.

Jimenez recognized her continued anxiety, and resolved to put an end to it. Without warning, he pulled her back into his arms, and kissed her. She hadn't sensed his intent, and the surprise nearly panicked her. But that forced her to give in to impulse, which allowed her mind to unfold. As their mental rapport strengthened, Vystir returned his kiss, pushing against him until she had shoved him back against a bulkhead. She probed deep into his mind, further than she'd gone before, unearthing fleeting images from unremembered dreams. She forgot to be Borg, and gave herself over to becoming _one_.

After a few minutes of this they both suddenly pulled back. "Phase discrimination," they said simultaneously. The numbers were most likely the proper setting for a phase discriminator. The Borg used that technology to isolate the subspace domains that they used for drone-to-drone communications. Perhaps the general hailing frequency they'd used to get the Borg's attention wasn't secure enough for what the Queen wished to discuss. There was only one way to find out.

Jimenez returned to the pilot's seat as Vystir configured the shuttle's instruments. The _Hrunting_ could cycle a transmission through a subspace domain generated by its transporters, but it was tricky to dial the phase discriminator to precisely 0.032885% positive displacement. Once she'd succeeded, Jimenez knew of it instantly, and wasted no time opening a communications channel.

Nothing. No audio but white noise, and no visual signal. Evidently just opening the channel wasn't enough to solve the Queen's little riddle. There was no way of knowing who was listening to the signal, but Jimenez decided he had nothing to lose. "Hello?"

"Who--?" The audio reception was now fuzzy, but tolerable. "Jimenez? _Nathan?_ "

"Tirava?" Jimenez barely concealed his astonishment. He hadn't heard from the Andorian in nearly a month, when she and Kreighen had been separated from the rest of the _Hrunting_ 's crew. Kreighen hadn't been clear on what happened to her. "Tirava, it's me. Where are you?"

"Nathan! I thought they killed you! Are Ijhel and Ajax all right...?" She'd never expected to hear his voice again, so it took her a moment to realize that she _shouldn't_ have expected to hear his voice _in her head_. "How did you tap into my neural transceiver? There's no way you could be in range..."

Not without the exact phase discrimination. "Utana remembered that she documented some of your Borg implants a while back," he lied.

"What? Nathan, hold on a minute..." There was a great deal of static over the channel, which now began to fade. "I think that's better. I have a friend here who's been keeping the Borg from using this line. Your comm system cuts through the interference, but not much. There isn't much time."

"Tirava, I--"

" _Listen_ , Nathan. I'm at Intercomplex 934. The Zeroes successfully captured it, and they're regrouping here for an offensive. Their slave labor has been gathering materials for some kind of superweapon."

"Superweapon?" Now he knew why the Borg were trying to contact her....to the point of assigning the task to him. 

"I just know it involves boronite, yominum, and anti-azidoazide," she explained. "Does any of that mean anything to you?"

Not to him, not directly, but Vystir recognized a connection for him. "No," he said, openly deceiving the last friend he had in the galaxy. "Can't say it does."

"I'm sure it's not good. We have to stop them, Nathan. I don't know exactly what they plan to do with the Xhiryptyr'x in this offensive, but I know cannon fodder when I see it. I've been trying to organize a rebellion."

"That...that sounds like a good plan." Jimenez found his voice wavering as he dissembled, but with a look to Vystir he found the resolve to bluff his way through. "We can be there in about two hours. It'll be a lot easier to get through their defenses if you can give them something more important to worry about. We'll try to identify this weapon. If we can confiscate it, that would give you some leverage."

"All right..." Even through the interference, it was clear she was distracted by her irrelevant personal attachments. "Nathan...Jake is still stranded back at that nebula. The Zeroes think he's dead. If I don't make it...you have to make sure he..."

She had no way of knowing Kreighen had somehow rescued himself. Jimenez couldn't waste time explaining that to her. She'd want to speak to him, and then she'd want to know why he wasn't aboard the shuttle. So he told the truth...as he saw it. "Kreighen will be all right," he said. "We'll all be fine. We'll be together again...I promise."


	11. Chapter 11

"Computer, begin emergency shutdown procedure, authorization Janeway theta tau six four."

The _Hrunting_ 's computer only chirped back at the admiral. There was no reason to expect that command to work any better than the last eleven, but there was little else for Janeway to do in her confinement. "Computer," she went on, "cross-link the main replicator control bus into the force field generator relay. Authorization Janeway kappa rho pi nine three one." Nothing. "Computer, open write access to security permissions database, authorization Janeway iota alpha sigma." Nothing.

"You're wasting your time." She could hear Jimenez's voice coming from the doorway before he came around into view. Vystir was by his side, as usual. "Ijhel reprogrammed the computer. It probably doesn't even recognize your voice pattern, let alone your access codes."

Janeway shrugged, but said nothing.

"What do boronite, yominum, and anti-azidoazide mean to you?" he asked.

Concern spread across her face, but she remained defiant.

Jimenez nodded. "I think they mean _something_. Merrani sensed that boronite and yominum were on the mind of the _Stormwind_ 's captain. They were transporting those substances to Intercomplex 934, weren't they?"

Janeway maintained her silence. For now she preferred to gather information rather than disclose it. Vystir's mood had improved, but not much. Whatever Janeway might have missed, it hadn't completely relieved her concern from speaking to the Borg Queen. That could present an opportunity.

"Don't look at her," Jimenez demanded, "look at me. I want to know what those materials would be used for."

Janeway said nothing. Was he worried that she was bothering Vystir? Was he trying to protect his companion?

"Anti-azidoazide is highly unstable," he continued, "but it's relatively trivial to replicate. Boronite and yominum are rare in this region of space. I think you were transporting it to Unimatrix Zero, and they intended to use it in a weapon. Well, they didn't wait around for you. They obtained their own supply."

That broke Janeway's poker face. She'd spent months coordinating this operation. The idea was to make the Borg _think_ Unimatrix Zero was synthesizing omega molecules. Evidently, the Zeroes had gone into business for themselves. The red herring in her plan was now a richer prize than the actual goal.

Her eyes confirmed what Jimenez wanted to know. "It's not just any weapon. It's bait...and to lure the Borg in, it would have to be absolutely irresistible to them."

"We have to notify the Collective," Vystir blurted out.

"No." They stop talking for several minutes, continuing the discussion telepathically. But when that wasn't enough to resolve the disagreement, Jimenez returned to vocal communication. "We have to assume that if the Borg were willing, or able, to pursue this, they would have by now. The Queen left this up to us. She must have a reason."

"Perhaps," Janeway deadpanned, "she'd rather not risk any drones when she's got two misguided individuals to do the work for her."

Vystir tried to ignore her. "Nathan, it's not right to unilaterally decide how to act in the best interest of the Collective. We have to trust the superior perspective of the whole."

"For the past twenty years, that perspective has been fixated on assimilating human civilization at any cost," Jimenez argued. "They see my species, my culture, having something they lack, something that would be a major step forward in their perfection. Well, my biological distinctiveness says you have to think outside the box once in a while. The Borg aren't going to get this weapon the way they normally do things. They're going to have to trust us."

Janeway continued to prod. "What makes you think you can trust them?"

"We're not the fools you think we are, Admiral," he sneered. "I trust the Borg to do what's in their best interests. And in a few hours, it will be in their best interests to assimilate this shuttle on my terms."

"'Your' terms?" the admiral observed.

"That's right." Jimenez looked deeply into Vystir's eyes. "They won't overlook you. I won't let them."

His peculiar gallantry made her quiver, and it was clear to Janeway that the mood had caused them to exchange various dirty thoughts. Without another word, they hurried back to the foredeck, presumably for one last pre-assimilation fling.

The admiral was left alone again, but this time with a better assessment of her captors. Jimenez and Vystir had bonded over their desire to abandon the Federation for an interconnected, collective society. But the hive mind they really wanted wasn't the one the Borg had to offer. Vystir, it seemed, wanted a Borg lifestyle only insofar as she could be at the center of it. And Jimenez was just looking for whatever collective would let him express his devotion to Vystir. Neither of them were going to find what they were looking for. Neither of them would be happy to learn their true motivations didn't align as much as they chose to believe. Somehow, some way, Janeway would have to make sure they realized this painful truth, before it was too late.

"Computer," she said aloud, "identify all software revisions marked Ijhel, authorization Janeway gamma epsilon two..."


	12. Chapter 12

The former Borg drones in Unimatrix Zero still retained their cybernetic implants, but a nanovirus in their cortical inhibitors prevented the Collective from establishing a neural link with them. Tirava, though, had been surgically restored by Starfleet, and could still be contacted through her neural transceiver. This automatically made her a security risk whenever she was within communications range with the Borg. So when Hardcastle saw her muttering to herself in a corner, he knew there was trouble.

The Xhiryptyr'x girl she'd befriended, Saa, looked up at him as he entered Tirava's quarters. "She insisted that I move away," she explained, her reptilian eyes filling with fear.

"Ava?" He grabbed the Andorian by the shoulders, and shook her as he might a sleepwalker. "Ava, come back to me..."

When she came out of it, she instinctively pushed him away, until she realized who he was. "Flint...it's okay. It wasn't the Borg this time."

"Then who was it?"

"The _Hrunting_ ," she said. The relief in her voice at those words was palpable. "My friends. They're on their way to Intercomplex 934."

Hardcastle looked uneasy. "I thought you told us they were all dead."

"I thought that they _were_ ," she countered, annoyed by his dispute. "They must have figured out I was here, and decided to rescue me. I told them about the weapon."

"I don't like this..."

"Flint..."

"This is serious, Lieutenant." With that one word, they were no longer fellow survivors of the Borg, or old lovers reunited twenty-four years after being assimilated. A lifetime ago, she'd been Lieutenant junior grade Tirava of the starship _Tombaugh_ , and Lieutenant Commander Hardcastle was the XO. He would always be her superior officer, no matter what else he might mean to her. "The Borg would do anything...say anything to get their hands on General Korok's new toy."

"Flint..." She thought better of that. " _Sir_ , it was Ensign Jimenez. I know it."

"Just the same..." Hardcastle rummaged through her locker and handed her a medical device. "I think it'd be safer if you took another dose of your neural suppressants. If we need to contact _Hrunting_ again, I know a few ways to get a signal out that Korok _and_ the Borg won't notice."

She started to complain. It was easier to let Saa block out unwanted Borg communiques with her telepathic abilities. If Jimenez needed to call again, she could simply put some distance between herself and the girl. But she knew she'd lost when Saa took his side. "I...I think he's right. I don't know if I can go through with all this if I'm worrying about you, Tirava."

The Andorian rolled her eyes and accepted the injector from Hardcastle. When she could feel the drug taking effect, she returned to the matter at hand. "I assume you came here to tell me more about this thing Korok's been building."

He nodded and walked up to a wall-mounted console. With a flick of his wrist, tendrils shot out from his hand to interface with the unit, and uploaded a set of schematics. "It's bigger than we thought. The boronite you and Saa raided from the Collective is being used to synthesize Particle 010." 

He could see Tirava didn't recognize that term. "You've been away from the Collective too long to remember, but Unimatrix Zero has retained a lot of their quantum chemistry research. Particle 010 is an immensely powerful molecule of exotic matter. Starfleet calls it the "omega molecule," and has special protocols in place to prevent anyone from fooling around with it, because of its volatility. A single molecule contains enough energy to destroy an entire sector of subspace.

"Although the Borg know how to synthesize omega, they can't stabilize the reaction because they can't obtain enough boronite for their harmonic chambers. But the Zeroes are better at doing their homework. Our scientists discovered a way to use the molecules' own resonance to modulate the containment field."

"Where does that leave you, though?" Tirava wondered. "What are these molecules good for, besides exploding?"

"Starfleet researchers believed omega existed in the early history of the universe," Hardcastle continued, "possibly before the electroweak epoch. The physics that allow it to exist should confirm at least one grand unified theory. The idea is to use a lattice of omega molecules to generate new forms of energy and matter." He directed her attention to a particular illustration. "Korok isn't using the molecules as ammunition, but as a field coil."

Saa was barely a teenager, and her culture lacked the scientific background for her to possibly understand all of this. But she did raise one salient point. "If the Borg can't make this, but you can, won't they try to take it?"

Tirava nodded. "That's why your people have been gathered here. Korok expects a fight--a big one. And he doesn't care if the Xhiryptyr'x are decimated in the process."

Hardcastle removed his arm from the console, ending the presentation. "I take it you haven't gotten a response to the Xhiryptyr'x distress call you transmitted..."

"Our ships are very fast," Saa replied, "but it was...difficult to send the message. I don't know how many of our vessels received it, or how far away they are."

"Even if they arrive before the Borg do," Tirava added, "The Xhiryptyr'x apparently don't have transporter technology. They'll never be able to evacuate the conscripts unless we can commandeer a transporter room or a ship. And they'll never get past Korok's weapon, unless Jimenez can make good on his plan to capture it. So we're going to need a diversion, and soon."


	13. Chapter 13

In spite of their hyper-evolved mental abilities, the Xhiryptyr'x were over a century behind their captors in science and engineering. Once Unimatrix Zero found a way to overcome, and surgically disable, their telepathic powers, it was a trivial matter to enslave them in the thousands. Aboard Intercomplex 934, they were corralled in a enormous docking bay, with nothing but force fields and minimal security to keep them contained. Conditions were overcrowded and miserable, with meager supplies stretched to their limit. Surrounded by advanced Borg technology, they subsisted in a 24th century shanty town.

Despite their reptilian features and dinosaurian plumage, the Xhiryptyr'x culture was thoroughly Kazon. The Kazon race as a whole was only just beginning to recover from centuries of oppression, and this evolutionary offshoot had not fared much better. Under the harsh conditions of their conscription--with their best and brightest often becoming casualties of war--the population trapped in the intercomplex was led by a poor imitation of a patriarchy. "Elders" had an average age of twenty-three, were exclusively male, and motivated more by aggression and personal ambition than the needs of their people.

As a female, a juvenile, and an orphan, Saa had no standing in this society. Her role would be to fend for herself until she was claimed as property by a male--she could only aspire to become the lowest of her race. But through a twist of fate, she was the one Xhiryptyr'x on the intercomplex that had somehow been unaffected by the Zeroes' lobotomy procedure. That alone demanded that she rise above her station, whether her people accepted it or not. She was the only one who could save them.

So when she barged into a meeting of the conscripts' leaders, she refused to reveal any hint of intimidation or timidness. And she insisted on doing so alone--Tirava's assistance was appreciated but counterproductive here. The Xhiryptyr'x could not afford for her to appear weak, or co-dependent. If she couldn't convince them to rise up against Unimatrix Zero, all would be lost.

The Xhiryptyr'x elders were gathered around a large communal table in the middle of the bay--the "town square," for all intents and purposes. Saa climbed onto it and stood in the center. "Heed me!" she demanded.

The men did their best not to. "What is _that_ doing here?" one of them muttered.

"I am doing more here for our people than you!" Saa countered, with all the defiance she could muster. "You, who sit and choose for our masters which of us will be murdered in their war!"

It was a brash statement, designed to offend their honor. The flaw in her plan was that these men had little honor to offend. There was little for her to admire about her culture, but she had at least expected that it was honest with itself, and true to its stated principles. But the Xhiryptyr'x creed, like that of the Kazon, was little more than a thin justification for the whims of their patriarchs. And though every conscript yearned for freedom from Unimatrix Zero, the most influential yearned more still for power. Under the circumstances, power came from collaboration.

The man at the head of the table signaled the youngest of them, who climbed onto the table. Saa turned to see him approaching, a crude metal weapon in his hand. He would kill her on the spot, if she did not flee.

But Saa stood her ground, as Tirava would in her place. She closed her eyes and concentrated, summoning a psychokinetic burst that threw the assailant off the table and down to the floor. It was not an unusual display of strength by Xhiryptyr'x standards--even for a slip of a girl--but it was unheard of among the conscripts. Now, she hoped, she had their attention.

"I am nothing to you," she said. "I am less than a woman, and no one's child. I will never earn my name as you have been allowed to. But I am willing to fight for our people, in their time of peril. The Mechanical People who rule us have constructed a miraculous weapon, daring their rivals to attack this place. When the battle comes, there won't be enough men and boys among us to shed blood for them. We will all be destroyed."

Another elder worked up the nerve to jump up and ambush her, but she sensed his intentions before he could climb onto the table. Another psionic salvo put him in his place. "You don't want to hear me, but I'm the one with the power here. I am the one to retain my birthright, which the Mechanical People robbed from each of you! Follow me to seek your righteous vengeance! Earn your names again, for the good of us all!"

"What is it suggesting?" one of the men asked her, though he went out of his way to address her in the third person.

"You've seen what I can do," she explained. She hoped a greater demonstration wasn't necessary. As Tirava had seen, her power had begun to expand beyond even that of the Xhiryptyr'x, and she wasn't certain she could control that. "I have had the chance to summon our brothers who went uncaptured. They can liberate us from this damnable place! We have only to secure a way to board their ships when they come!"

That had them buzzing. Even collaborators couldn't pass up an opportunity to be liberated, as long as it required little effort on their part. For all that the Xhiryptyr'x lacked true honor, they excelled at personal ambition. If there was a chance to turn the situation more to their favor, they would take it.

"Who are you?" the one at the head of the table asked. She was impressed that he offered her even this simple courtesy, and approached him.

"I am called Saa," she proclaimed, kneeling down to look him in the eye. "And I will deliver our race to--"

A diversion, she realized, as the pain crossed her throat. His courtesy had only been a distraction, to lower her guard. And like a simple-minded female, she had let it doom her. Saa tried to turn to confront the third elder who had assaulted her--the first to succeed. But as her life began to spill from her neck, she lacked the strength to even support her own weight. The last thing she saw was the chief elder, grinning a the pathetic deception he'd employed to murder a trifling girl. The last words she heard were the men around her, debating whether her story of a fantastic weapon and hope of reinforcements was true...and how to manipulate it to their advantage.

Golden blood covered the table, as the elders continued their conference uninterrupted.


	14. Chapter 14

With the _Stormwind_ back under way and its mission clear, Captain Lancaster had only one order for Kreighen: Report to sickbay for a medical workup.

Once there, he was invited (or gently commanded) to bathe. He didn't dare argue. He'd spent most of the last month marooned by General Korok on an uninhabited moon. Upon escaping that predicament, he immediately found himself breaking out of a Federation prison camp, racing headlong to rendezvous with the _Stormwind_. And so, after the longest shower and shave of his life, he traded in his threadbare uniform for one of sickbay's patient gowns. After that, he spent the majority of his stay waiting on a bio-bed, watching Doctor Ben-Aharon ignore him. 

The inactivity was good for him. He'd spent most of the past eight months, if not the entire war, living on the edge of a razor blade. But the cumulative effect was that he found it impossible to relax. His whole body was like an exposed nerve, and he felt like he'd been living on Klingon coffee for as long as he could remember. Rest wouldn't come easy to him. He needed a snort of whiskey. He wasn't likely to get one in sickbay.

After fewer minutes than it felt like, he got tried of staring at the chief medical officer's back. "Doctor?"

"Hm?"

"Did you decide if I'm dead yet?"

"No, that's okay..."

Kreighen furrowed his brow at the non-sequitur, and got up to confront her. As he reached her desk, he found Ben-Aharon laboring over a box of fluff. One by one, she would pick out a ball of the stuff, inject it with some sort of fluid, and place it in a beaker.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Oh," she said when she finally took notice of him. "You didn't need to get up..."

"What. Are. You. Doing?"

"Nothing much." When he gestured, exasperatedly, at the box, and she realized he insisted on more detail, she clarified. "I'm just growing some cultures in dead tribbles."

Somehow the answer was more disturbing than the mystery. "Is this supposed to be some miracle cure for baldness, or death, or something?"

"Hm? I _doubt_ it..."

"Then _why the hell_ \--?" He stopped himself, mostly in fear that she might prescribe overnight observation. "Am I free to leave yet?"

She briefly paused her work to glance at a report on her desk. "Your similinhibitizine levels are stable."

"Does that mean 'yes' or 'no,' Doctor?"

"I'll let you know...ah, hello, Captain." She stood up to greet Lancaster, whom Kreighen hadn't noticed coming in.

"Rachel." Lancaster acknowledged Kreighen, but didn't dismiss him. "I'm here for your findings on the commander."

"Right...give me one second..." She rummaged through her tribbles to find her medical tricorder. "Whatever is interfering with the anti-assimilation drugs in the crew, Commander Kreighen doesn't show any of the effects."

"Then I must not have been exposed to whatever affected the rest of you," Kreighen reasoned.

"No," she rebutted patiently. "You don't show any of the effects."

"What's the difference--?"

Lancaster separated them. "We don't have time for this. Is there any reason not to clear Mister Kreighen for duty?"

"There are traces of keniclizene in his system," she continued, "but not enough to indicate long-term use. I don't need to keep him here."

Kreighen rubbed his temples. "Then why have you been keeping me--!?"

Lancaster signaled for him to keep it to himself. "Rachel, I'll need to have a word with Mister Kreighen. Alone."

"Oh, of course!" Ben-Aharon glanced around sickbay, and then pointed to the exit. "There probably isn't anyone out in the corridor..."

Kreighen could hardly believe she said that, but Lancaster showed considerably more patience. "Very good, Doctor," the captain said. "As you were." As soon as she returned to her work, he quietly led Kreighen into her private office.

Once the door was shut, Kreighen had to vent. "She's insane! How do you put up with her?"

"She was in the top thirty of her class at Starfleet Medical," Lancaster explained, and then directed the commander to take a seat. "The best medical officers aren't always the best officers, Commander."

"Jake."

"Hmp?"

"You can call me Jake, sir. Everyone does."

"I shan't," Lancaster replied candidly. "Mister Kreighen, you have presented me with quite the predicament. I am taking my ship deep into enemy territory, based on little more than your knowledge of the situation. And not only are you clearly withholding information from me, you have lied to me as well. Admiral Janeway presented me with a similar dilemma. In either case, I do not appreciate it."

Kreighen understood. "I'm sorry you and your crew got pulled into this, Captain. If I don't seem to care about imposing on you, it's because I know there's nothing I can do about it. My career's finished one way or the other. And even if you don't believe what I've told you, you have to intercept the _Hrunting_ and rescue Janeway."

"Is that all you have to say?"

"Sir?"

Lancaster let out a deep sigh, and spelled it out. "Lieutenant Commander, until you are formally discharged from the service, you are a Starfleet officer. Your first duty is to the truth. Not your fellow officers, not your superiors, not even the Federation--those responsibilities logically follow from your obligation to the truth. Now, I have just called into question your character and your motivations. This is not the time to equivocate, or to rationalize that the net effect of your choices is tolerable. I must know, sir, if you cannot adequately _account_ for your actions, that you have the conviction to _stand_ by them, and accept the consequences."

The impact of his words slowly dawned on Kreighen, until he rose from his chair. He stood as straight as the day he graduated the academy, as the day he was promoted to lieutenant commander, as the day he told Janeway to court-martial him. "I stand by my actions, sir."

"Will you explain to me how it is you knew Admiral Janeway was aboard this ship, or how you discovered the secrets of these Xhiryptyr'x of yours, or why you would have ancient anti-telepathic drugs in your bloodstream?"

Kreighen tensed. "Respectfully, sir, I believe the answers to these questions constitute a threat to the allied fleet, and the entire Federation."

"And that's your final word on the subject?"

"Yes, sir."

"So be it." Lancaster circled the table and stood nose to nose with Kreighen. "For the duration of this mission, I hereby appoint you as executive officer of the _Stormwind_."


	15. Chapter 15

"Are you kidding?"

"Hardly," Lancaster said, displeased at the very suggestion.

Kreighen still didn't believe it. "Why would you want me as a first officer? You just said yourself that you don't trust me."

"I said that you've lied to me, Commander, and that I do not appreciate it. However, I can accept that your secrecy is well-intentioned." The captain could tell that didn't resolve Kreighen's question, and added, "If I should realize that trust is misplaced, you can be sanctioned whether you are my executive or not. Unless and until that occurs, I choose to make the best use of your skills."

"Begging your pardon, sir," Kreighen countered, "but my best skill is piloting spacecraft. I recommend that you assign me to one of your attack fighters. I'll even take over as chief flight controller if you need Mindek to be your XO. She's at least as qualified for the job as me, and she knows this ship."

"I need Mindek where she is," Lancaster replied. "I need everyone where we've always depended upon them. This ship recently lost her captain, Mister Kreighen--until a few days ago, I was the executive officer under Captain Sarkova. This crew has not had time even to adjust to that loss. I prefer not to add to that dissonance."

Kreighen wasn't buying that. "So I'm just in the right place at the right time. Even though I'm not cut out for command."

"On the contrary. The record shows you performed admirably while in command of the _Stormwind_. It's reasonable to conclude you have the most command experience relative to our tactical situation--operating behind enemy lines with severely limited resources."

"I spent months staying alive in a shuttle," Kreighen clarified. "My 'command' was two officers, a civilian, and a bunch of holograms. I'm down to one civilian and one hologram."

"You were forced to confront impossible odds. You turned death into a fighting chance to live." Again, Lancaster caught Kreighen about to debate the point, and declined to give him the opportunity. "This is not about your _degree_ of success, Commander, only the presence of it. There will be time enough to lament your Pyrrhic victories. For now I will be content with but one more."

The younger man nodded. "I don't suppose you'd let me refuse..."

"Your record to date suggests that I should not, to get your best performance."

"You're probably right." Kreighen held out his hand, which Lancaster gave a single, almost compulsory shake. "What are your orders, Captain?"

Lancaster sat down in one of the chairs in Doctor Ben-Aharon's office, and considered that question. "Assuming we intercept the _Hrunting_ in transit, it will be trivial to subdue it and recover Admiral Janeway. I am more concerned with the possibility that the shuttle will reach Intercomplex 934 ahead of us."

"The Zeroes think they destroyed _Hrunting_ ," Kreighen observed. "If they spot her, they'll assume whoever is aboard is a threat."

"I presume Ensign Jimenez has prepared for that. As must we." The captain leaned forward, arriving at his point. "You're as familiar with the tactical situation of that base as anyone aboard. Develop a plan for engaging the intercomplex as deftly as you engaged the Borg. Work with whomever you see fit...though I strongly suggest you consult Narb-Uzek, Mindek, and Robinson. I want your best proposal on my desk within the hour."

"You'll have it," Kreighen promised, and then promptly went to work. 

On his way out of the office, he returned to Ben-Aharon, still passing the time with her dead tribbles. She was surprised he was still in sickbay. "Is there something else you need, Commander?"

"A uniform," he answered directly, tugging at his patient's gown. "Do you know the way to the tactical lab?"

"Sure!" Although she then struggled to recall. "You take a right...then _two_ lefts to the turbolift..."

"Then you're with me," Kreighen interjected. "I need your input on a battle plan."

Perplexed, Ben-Aharon looked for Captain Lancaster and found him on his way out of sickbay. "Captain?"

But the matter wasn't up to him; he'd delegated that responsibility. "You heard him, Doctor," he muttered, and then gave one last look to Kreighen. "Within the hour, Number One."


	16. Chapter 16

>   
> Commodore's log, stardate 63583.8.
> 
> The 5th, 17th, and 21st fleets have taken up their positions. In total, 694 vessels have left the front line to be assigned under my command, including 204 Federation starships, 112 Romulan warbirds, and 378 Klingon cruisers. 
> 
> Pursuant to Starfleet traditions regarding the scale of this assembly, I hereby assume the role of commodore, in addition to my normal duties as captain of the _Excelsior_. In practice, however, Starfleet officers tend to prefer titles which follow familiar use, rather than obscure protocol. I must therefore assert that all personnel under my command are excused for any potential failure to address me by the proper rank for the duration of this mission.
> 
> I will be leading the armada into Borg Spatial Grid 6123 to commence Operation: Nimrod. The name "Nimrod" in this context is an allusion to a mythological explanation for the fragmenting of human civilization. It is intended to refer to objective of our mission, which is to destroy the metanexus that regulates Borg cyberneural traffic in this region. However, the association between the story and the character of Nimrod is not supported by the earliest known texts. I have supplied Fleet Admiral Janeway with the relevant materials supporting this conclusion.  
> 

The captain emerged from his ready room and went straight to the communications officer. "Ensign, have we received any word from either Allied Command or Admiral Janeway?"

The ensign had only served aboard the _Excelsior_ for six weeks, and hadn't even met the captain before this moment. His skin turned nearly as pale as his commanding officer. "N-no, sir. Radio blackout remains in effect."

The captain clenched his fist, his frustration evident but perfectly modulated. His head jerked to tactical. "Status of Borg forces at Metanexus 211."

Colonel Rik'tarrin, one of the Klingons' best field officers, stood watch at that post. "No change," she grumbled.

"Captain..." Sub-commander Velor, serving as first officer and Romulan liaison, stepped forward to offer his counsel. "All of our timetables indicated that Janeway's diversion would be underway by now. If something has gone wrong..."

"I am aware of the tactical situation, Sub-commander," the captain replied, before explaining it anyway. "Unless a significant portion of Borg forces withdraw from this sector, our forces will be insufficient to capture the metanexus."

"Well, we can't stay here!" Rik'tarrin argued. "Even under cloak, a fleet of this size will eventually be detected."

"We can always fall back," Velor advised. He could feel the Klingon's contempt for that suggestion from across the bridge. "As a delaying measure, nothing more. If we retreat just twenty light years, we'll be far better hidden."

The captain scrutinized a large tactical map as he considered it. "That would be inadvisable. If the Borg are diverted while we are out of position, we may lose the element of surprise. The Collective could potentially summon additional reinforcements from deeper within their space. It appears that we can neither remain here nor fall back."

"Then we must attack now!" Rik'tarrin shouted.

"That... _is_ what I implied," the captain said, blinking. "Is it not?"

"Captain, I must strongly caution against that." Velor handed him a tablet describing projections of casualties. "If we go in expecting a Borg withdrawal that never comes, we could lose up to 86% of our forces."

He reviewed the information while inspecting the bridge. "I would revise this to 87.194%, based on our existing plan of attack."

Velor knew him too well to be stifled by his pedantry. "Are you saying there is any other plan that will do better?"

"No," he answered flatly, while nodding to each of the officers at their stations. "But I am working on it." He stopped at the communication officer who had earlier cowered in his presence.

"Sir?" the young man shivered.

"What's your name..." the captain asked, and then awkwardly added, "...son?"

"Um...Thompson, sir."

He knelt down to look the boy in the eye. "Are you worried, Ensign Thompson?"

"Well...no, sir."

"The capillaries in your skin suggest that you are. In any event, there is no need for...particular apprehension about this mission. It has been my observation that such emotions are a distraction that are best ignored during battle. To that end, you may be relieved to know that, during my service with Starfleet, I have survived 179 out of 180 separate combat operations, including engagements against the Cardassians, Tzenkethi, Romulans, Ferengi, Klingons, Remans, Talarians, Borg, Jem'Hadar, S'ona, and Breen."

Thompson looked more overwhelmed than reassured, but he didn't want to let his captain down. "Uh...sure. I'll keep that in mind, sir."

The captain seemed content with that answer, and gave Thompson an odd pat on the cheek. "Good. I'm glad to hear it. We need you, Thompson." Standing to his full height, he returned to ship's business. "Open a channel to the fleet."

"Aye, sir," Thompson replied, and was so quick to obey the order that he almost forgot one minor detail. "Excuse me, sir...if you lived through 179 out of 180...what happened at the one?"

The captain strolled to his chair in the center of the bridge, and gave his shirt a practiced tug as he sat down. "I was destroyed while sabotaging a thalaron generator to prevent the loss of my ship," he explained matter-of-factly. He considered the significance of that event, and added with a smile, "But I wouldn't concern myself with that, Ensign. The chances of that happening again are...remote."

Thompson was slack-jawed at this, until a beeping reminded him that his transmission was ready. "Uh...wait...channel open."

"To all ships in the fleet," the captain announced. "This is Commodore Data of the _Excelsior_. Ready engines and prepare to depart. We will engage the Borg in exactly seventeen minutes, six seconds. Let's kick some ass."


	17. Chapter 17

"The Allied fleet is already on its way to attack Metanexus 211," General Korok explained to Unimatrix Zero. "With any luck, Admiral Janeway has found a way to divert Borg forces away from that facility...straight toward this one. It is up to us to keep the Collective busy until the invasion is completed. But I intend to do more than distract the Borg."

Korok signaled to one of his chief scientists, who activated a very large apparatus in the center of the chamber. It wasn't clear from the inside of Intercomplex 934 what this device was, since the most recognizable components were outside the main hull. "This," the general growled, "is the omega mortar. It will destroy _every_ Borg vessel that comes within forty thousand kilometers of this station."

Even the Zeroes who had been briefed on this weapon were awestruck to see it up close. Commander Hardcastle had to be the one to interrupt the mood with the details. "General, with that kind of ammunition on hand, do we even _need_ the fleet?"

Korok's tactical adviser, Alpha Sorgem, fielded the question. "Our ships, and the conventional weapons platforms throughout the intercomplex, will proceed normally. You will hunt the Borg as though the omega mortar were not available. Your tenacity, combined with the power of this device, will ensure a swift victory."

"What about the Xhiryptyr'x?" Tirava asked. "It won't do much good sending them to raid enemy ships if this mortar blows them to bits."

"When the Borg realize what they're up against," Korok argued, "they'll adapt. I don't expect their evasive action to be clever, but you can be assured it will be effective. It will fall to the Xhiryptyr'x to handle the cubes that our main forces can't."

"If Admiral Janeway's plan holds," Sorgem continued, "the attack will come within the hour. If not, the Borg will still come when they detect the energy signature of the mortar on their long-range sensors. Either way, we must prepare at once. All vessels are to report to docking bay eleven to take aboard a company of Xhiryptyr'x. The fleet will assume defense pattern lambda rho--"

An alarm rang throughout the chamber--a dull, obnoxious noise best suited to the drones that had originally constructed the station. As the Zeroes muttered to one another about the commotion, Korok looked to one of his other advisers, a Jye administrator named Pechkil, to determine the cause of the alert. 

Using his Borg implants, Pechkil rapidly cycled through the intercomplex's recent logs. "There is weapons fire in docking bay nineteen," he reported. "A series of explosions in subjunctions 34 alpha through 49 gamma. Sensor data is erratic in the affected area...picking up hundreds of life signs..." He grew eerily silent just then. "General...they're not Borg or Zeroes."

"Then what are they?" Korok fumed. But he already knew.

"The Xhiryptyr'x appear to have escaped into the station," Pechkil confirmed. They're spreading into the outer junctions."

Sorgem trudged up to get a firsthand look at the data. "They're scattering, to make sure we can't capture all of them at once. It will be impossible to contain them without a substantially larger force. General, permission to--"

"Go," Korok said. "Take whatever men you need to secure the station." He then addressed the commanders of his ships. "Mobilize the fleet immediately. We cannot afford for this insurgency to gain control of a single vessel."

The Zeroes began scrambling out of the chamber, hurrying to wherever they were needed. Amid the commotion, Hardcastle made sure to stay close to Tirava. "This is it, Ava. You're gonna want to come with me."

"What are you talking about?"

"My cube is moored at docking bay twenty," he explained. "Which means we'll have go right through the thick of this thing. But I figure that's where you're headed anyway."

She couldn't argue with him. She'd been worried about Saa ever since the girl went off on her own to talk the Xhiryptyr'x into this insurgency. Now that it had begun, there was no way to be sure she could protect herself. Unlike Hardcastle, Tirava owed no loyalties to Unimatrix Zero, and had few duties within the organization. No one would miss her if she failed to report to her post, so she was better off staying by the side of her young friend. With a quick nod, the Andorian and her one-time lover joined hands and made their way out of the chamber.

"General," Pechkil fretted as the chamber quickly emptied. "If the Borg attack comes while we're busy securing the intercomplex, I can't guarantee our survival."

Korok sneered at the sniveling bureaucrat, and stormed toward his new weapon of mass destruction. Tapping a series of commands into his forearm, he opened a hatch leading to the gunner's chair. "Your guarantees are not required, Pechkil. _I_ will deal with the Borg."


	18. Chapter 18

What the Xhiryptyr'x lacked in technological sophistication, they made up for with ferocious tenacity. Whatever edge the Zeroes had in firepower was soon negated, as their rebellious conscripts surprised them and captured their weaponry. From their the insurgency might have settled into a deadlock, but the Xhiryptyr'x had more fight in them. At the precipice of a major battle with the Borg, Unimatrix Zero were preoccupied with what they had to lose. The Xhiryptyr'x could only see what they had to gain.

Tirava and Hardcastle did their best to weave around the fighting, using whatever crawlspace and access tunnels they could find to stay out of a crossfire. When there was no way through, they stood alongside the Zeroes and fired upon the rebels. It wasn't their preference--they had worked to foment this uprising, after all. But the Xhiryptyr'x couldn't be counted on to recognize two unlikely allies, and each of them had more pressing concerns. Hardcastle had to reach his ship. And Tirava had to find Saa.

In tight spaces that demanded hand-to-hand combat, the Xhiryptyr'x were even deadlier. The Zeroes were free of Borg control, but not of the bulky implants that slowed their movements. They were completely outclassed by the savage speed of their conscripts, making it difficult to advance through bottlenecks and sharp corners. Tirava was the only ex-Borg aboard the station who could get through the Xhiryptyr'x's lines, and Hardcastle was the only one dogged enough to follow her.

As they waded through corpses and enemy fire, Hardcastle would periodically receive a call from his ship. "Commander, they're trying to break through the airlock! We can't wait much longer!"

"Clear all moorings and keep the _Purgabantur_ in transporter range!" he answered. "I'll notify you when I'm ready to beam up!"

Tirava ran ahead of him, to tackle a Xhiryptyr'x and stun two more. "Go to your ship, Flint," she demanded. "You're only slowing me down!"

"Not a chance, Ava!" He caught sight of a group further down the corridor, planning an ambush, and fired at them to cover her advance. "I'm not leaving you alone down here, and I'm not dumb enough to take you with me until you've found what you're looking for!"

She cursed herself for not recognizing the ambush herself, and took out her frustrations on the next man that got in her way. Her warrior instincts were clouded by distraction, by her ever-changing priorities. She could trace it back to the day she broke her word to Unimatrix Zero, and tarnished her honor to save Kreighen's life. Since then she'd compromised herself at every turn. She was willing to work alongside the Zeroes until she could go back for Kreighen. Then she settled for betraying the Zeroes to help Saa liberate the Xhiryptyr'x. Now all she cared about was ensuring Saa's safety, and letting the Zeroes and the Xhiryptyr'x destroy one another. The shame of it smoldered in the back of her brain, growing with each step she took further into disgrace.

By the time they reached the Xhiryptyr'x encampment in docking bay nineteen, it was virtually deserted. The conscripts had little interest in securing what had, for months, been their prison. So there was no one there to get in her way when she found Saa's body, still laying where she had died. Her corpse had been picked clean of anything that might be remotely of value, including several of her teeth.

For an instant it all made sense--the Xhiryptyr'x uprising had been so senseless and brutal because it had begun in spite of Saa, not because of her--but only for an instant. But when the child's death fully registered, nothing made sense to Tirava. Not the Borg, which had stolen half of her life. Not the Federation, which rescued her just to abandon her into exile. Not Unimatrix Zero, so bent on revenge that that it adopted the inhumanity practiced by its foe. And now, finally, not even the Xhiryptyr'x--even in the bonds of slavery, presented with a faint glimmer of hope, they preferred to murder a girl for being female than to embrace the future.

In front of what was left of her friend, Tirava fell to her knees, and then collapsed altogether. In the distance she could hear the sounds of battle, but the war was now over for her. There was nothing left to fight for, no cause worth compromising her integrity yet again. Since the days of the first baleen sailing ships on Andoria, her ancestors had spilled and shed blood in war. But for her, war had proven to be a futility that she could no longer resist. Her dishonor was now complete.

"Hardcastle to _Purgabantur_." She heard his voice, but could find no reason to care. "Rendezvous with the fleet. I'm staying behind."

Sprawled on the deckplate, she buried her head in her arms. "I don't need your pity," she seethed.

"You don't need yours either," he said bluntly. Kneeling beside her, he added, "I'm sorry. She was a brave young woman..."

"That's why they killed her," Tirava reasoned. "I knew they would, and I made her confront them anyway..."

He didn't accept that. "You convinced her to do what she knew was right. Just like you convinced me. Now it's your turn." He could see that didn't persuade her. "Ava, if these people don't get off the station before the Borg show up, they'll all die."

" _Let them die!_ " When she lifted her head to face him, her eyes were a deep, bloodshot blue. Her one good antenna was pointed straight in the air, signalling hostility to anyone who came too close.

"I won't. And if you ever gave a damn about this girl, you won't either. The Xhiryptyr'x are a loathsome people, Ava, but so was my species. They deserve a chance to someday regret what happened here. Give them that chance. We need to contact your friend's shuttle, and help him shut down Korok's new toy before the Borg hear about it."

Tirava looked away, and closed her eyes tightly as if to shut out the pain. But in that darkness, all she could sense was Saa, via the chemical and electromagnetic signals picked up by her antenna. Try as she might, she couldn't ignore what Hardcastle was saying. She was an Andorian warrior, not some guilt-ridden, grief-stricken milksop. And more to the point, she was a Starfleet officer, sworn to a duty that would outlast any dispute she had with Starfleet policy.

So she ran her fingers through Saa's blood, wiped it across her cheek, and pulled herself back to her feet.


	19. Chapter 19

"You'll never be able to transport the whole weapon with one shuttlecraft," Tirava explained on the viewscreen. "But the ammunition is generated by something called 'omega molecules,' which are stored in a harmonic resonance chamber at section 84 kappa, subjunction six. If you can get that away from Korok, his mortar will be useless, and you'll be in a position to dictate terms."

From the cockpit of the _Hrunting_ , Jimenez nodded in agreement. "We were thinking along those lines, too. Our ETA is in eleven minutes, thirty-nine seconds. Can you get us through the station's shields?"

"Commander Hardcastle thinks he can give you a window--I'll tell him to make it twelve minutes. You should be able to enter through docking bay seven. I'll have an anti-grav cart waiting for you."

"Why not just beam this resonance chamber into our cargo hold?"

"Because everything I've been told about omega molecules makes a trilithium bomb sound like sodium bicarbonate," Tirava said, without exaggeration. "Converting it to energy is just about the last thing I want to try with it."

Jimenez saw his opportunity becoming more lucrative, but couldn't risk her seeing that in his eyes. "Understood," he said slowly. "So...what happened to you, anyway?" It should have been an irrelevant question, but he found his curiosity about the weariness of her face overwhelming.

"Nothing," she answered. "Look, just remember--once we get omega aboard the _Hrunting_ , we have to hold out until the Xhiryptyr'x ships get here. Then Korok will have no choice but to negotiate. He can have his molecules back after the conscripts are released."

"And how long are we supposed to wait for those ships to arrive?"

"As long as it takes. It's not as if we have anywhere else to go. Tirava out."

The moment the channel was closed, Jimenez jumped up from the pilot's chair to return to the back of the ship. There was no point even consulting with Vystir, since her answer to his question was already in his mind. She didn't know anything more about "omega molecules" than he did. But Tirava was neither a poet nor a bored scientist--she wouldn't have coined that colorful term for the substance, any more than the Borg or Unimatrix Zero. Whatever these things were, Starfleet must have encountered them, which meant Admiral Janeway had probably heard of them.

Even as Vystir replaced him at the helm, he was back in front of Janeway's crude cell. "General Korok has a weapon that runs on omega molecules," he announced to her. Her reaction was subtle, but it was the knowing frustration he was hoping to find. "But you knew that as soon as I told you he'd found the supplies you were only pretending to send him."

"Well, it's been nice chatting with you," she smirked. "Drop by any time you want to not ask me questions you think you've already answered."

"I need to know how the Borg will respond when they find out about this."

"Oh, is that all?" Janeway stood up and came as close as the force field would allow. "I think you're going to find out sooner than you'd expect, Ensign. Because if I know the Borg, they've already found out, and they're already responding."

He stood nose-to-nose with her. "If they were, they wouldn't have asked us to investigate on their behalf."

"The Borg don't investigate. They assimilate information. They didn't need to know omega had anything to do with this weapon Korok constructed. It was enough to know that it could be a threat. Then they'd send a few cubes to take a closer look." She chose her next words carefully. "A _true_ Borg sympathizer would understand that."

He quickly took her meaning. "Merrani...she wouldn't go behind my back..."

"She would if you were keeping secrets from the Borg. She doesn't understand why you would do that, even for her benefit. I do." Janeway stepped back, and her tone lightened a bit. "I can tell that you love her. And it's...admirable, in a way, that you'd go so far to support her. But what she thinks she wants isn't what's best for her. And if you'd put her out of your mind for a few minutes, you'll realize it's not best for you either."

"You...you're..." Jimenez was shaking now, his eyes filling with pain and anger. But he kept his composure, just long enough to drop the force field. As soon as it was down, he grabbed the Admiral by the wrist, and pulled her out of the small enclosure. As he held her with his right hand, he struck her with the back of his left. "You're _not_ going to drive a wedge between us!"

Janeway's head turned with the blow, and she staggered. But she only staggered slightly, and her head only turned for a moment. With a deep breath, she straightened and faced the insolent junior officer, refusing to show any sign of discomfort. 

And then she floored him with a right hook to the jaw.

Jimenez wasn't carrying a sidearm (why would he need one, since he had the situation under control?), so she quickly found a weapons locker and retrieved a hand phaser. He was picking himself off the floor when she turned and fired in a single fluid motion.

There was no more than a second or two to plan her next move. Janeway crouched along the bulkhead, keeping a direct line of sight with the door to the foredeck. Vystir had to have realized what was going on as soon as Jimenez hit the deck. There was at least a small chance that the Betazoid would play it smart--she could flood the aft section with an anesthetic, or seal herself in the cockpit with force fields. But Janeway was right about Jimenez and Vystir. For all that they pretended at being Borg, they were fundamentally young lovers. And there was only one thing a young lover could do in this situation.

On cue, Vystir barreled through the doorway, desperate to see to Jimenez's protection. It was an easy shot, and Janeway fired a sustained blast at the traitor. The columnated nadion burst imparted enough kinetic energy to knock Vystir off her feet, and she fell backwards about two feet.

Admiral Janeway stepped over them both, making sure they would give her no trouble while she was gaining control of the shuttle. They were only stunned, more due to the weapon's default storage configuration than any mercy intended by the shooter.


	20. Chapter 20

Janeway's face loomed across the viewscreen of the _Stormwind_. "I had a feeling you'd try to come after me. Don't."

Even now, Commander Kreighen was astonished by her gall. Lancaster, on the other hand, was unfazed. "I am unaccustomed to taking orders from someone who hobbled my ship for the Borg to capture."

"We could debate the merits of my actions all day, Captain, but Intercomplex 934 is just a few minutes away, so I don't have the time. According to Jimenez, Unimatrix Zero built the weapon I only proposed as a bluff."

"And how does _he_ know that?" Kreighen asked.

"He didn't spell it out," she explained, "but apparently one of the Zeroes has been feeding him information. He wanted to withhold it until the Borg agreed to his terms, but I strongly suspect Vystir contacted them behind his back. They should be on their way."

The captain glanced to Narb-Uzek, who shook his head. "I'm not detecting any transwarp apertures on long-range sensors."

"They'll be coming," Janeway insisted. "And they won't let anything come between them and this weapon. I will not let them assimilate it. So there will very likely be a subspace explosion in this sector. I recommend you get as far away from here as possible."

Kreighen recognized a suicide plan when he heard one. "That's not going to work, Admiral."

"Then it's too bad this isn't open to debate. Janeway out." The viewscreen went blank.

"We can't let her do it, Captain," Kreighen argued. "She _might_ keep the Borg from getting that weapon. But that won't solve the Xhiryptyr'x problem."

"Indeed." Lancaster approached the helm. Since the _Stormwind_ had been trying to locate the _Hrunting_ without overtaking it, the starship hadn't been traveling at its best speed. "Accelerate to maximum warp, Mister Mindek. How soon can we reach the intercomplex?"

Mindek ran the calculations. "Twenty minutes."

"We need to close that gap." Kreighen started to look over Mindek's shoulder at her console, until he remembered his place. So he went to the first officer's chair, which was equipped to provide all the information he might need. According to his own console, the ship was now traveling at warp 9.97. "Mindek, how much more can you push her?"

Reflexively, she glanced to Lancaster before responding, but the captain's eyes made it clear that he would have no second-guessing of his executive. " _Akira_ -class vessels have a theoretical limit of 9.98, disregarding safety regulations. However, this ship has never exceeded 9.976, and at that velocity we incurred considerable structural damage."

"I say we fly her apart, Captain. Janeway and Korok will kill each other over that weapon, and we need both of them alive."

"What of the plan you put together? The _Stormwind_ may not be able to play her part if we 'fly her apart.'"

"It's either that or give Janeway a chance to destroy the station before we get there. And if that happens, we'll never have time to turn around and outrun the--"

"Sir!" Lieutenant Robinson didn't look away from her station, but her voice carried across the bridge. "I'm picking up subspace distortions on long-range sensors..."

"The Borg?"

"I don't think so, Captain." Robinson continued to study her readings. "They appear to be... _neurogenic_ fields."

"Neurogenic?" Godavarthy found that hard to believe, but she quickly recalibrated her instruments at ops. "Confirmed. There are seven...no. Twelve neurogenic fields, traveling at high warp speed. And all of them are on an intercept course with Intercomplex 934."

Robinson was becoming lost in the wonder of the emergency. "I've never seen a neurogenic field so coherent...not at this scale. This isn't just psionic energy, this is an intelligence at work..."

But Kreighen had seen it before, and once he reached Robinson's science station he recognized the readings. "It's them," he said. "We've run out of time, Captain. If the Borg show up now, they'll be in a position to assimilate the omega weapon _and_ Species 10538."

Lancaster set his jaw. "Notify engineering, Mister Mindek. We're going to warp factor 9.98."


	21. Chapter 21

Special relativity dictates that matter cannot travel faster than the speed of light--to even challenge that limit requires prohibitive amounts of energy, and subjects the traveler to increasingly acute time dilation. So explorers developed ways to encase their vessels within subspace fields--the ship doesn't have to move because the field warps through space at superluminous speeds. However, this did not eliminate the physical stresses upon a body in motion. A structural integrity field was necessary to resist shearing effects. A deflector grid prevented subatomic particles from plowing through the hull. Inertial dampeners made it possible for the passengers to experience intense acceleration as though it were a pleasant cruise.

The _Stormwind_ was possessed of all of these systems. But at warp factor 9.978 and climbing, it had already exceeded design limits for all of them.

Conditions were difficult for the crew, who were trained for the experience. Utana Ijhel was not. So she fell about her guest quarters, in search of some part of the room where she could ride out the difficult journey.

"I'm certain there's nothing to panic about!" Ajax assured her. Since his body was a collection of force fields, hs balance was impeccable.

"I'm _not_ panicking!" she huffed. She had only just braced herself against a chair when a particularly bad jolt almost tossed it on top of her. Undaunted, she inched her way toward the nearest bulkhead, taking each step as if the next might trigger a landmine. "And may I say, I am very tired of having you deduce how I feel like some sort of...mood tricorder!"

"I was only trying to help," he said, insulted. "What would you have me do?"

" _Find me a place to sit!_ " Ijhel shouted.

Without another word, Ajax marched up behind her, and lifted her into his arms. Ijhel made a noise that might best be described as a squeak. Before she could object, the hologram had carried her into the bedroom, and was laying her on the mattress.

For a moment, he hovered over her, and the dim lighting reflected in his eyes just so. And in that instant, he wasn't the obstinate hologram she'd refactored for Starfleet, but an image she found in a database all those months ago, when she was selecting Ajax's physical appearance. The image of a human man, tall and striking, with eyes from a Cardassian portrait. Choosing that image was a momentary indulgence...one that had just made her interaction with the program more difficult than it needed to be.

Ijhel put some distance between them. "This isn't working."

"What isn't?"

" _This._ I..." She sat up and looked at him again, with the light hitting him from another angle. And it was Ajax again...the spit-and-polish soldier, who saw her as a civilian first and his programmer second. The hologram that never, ever, stopped arguing with her, and took everything she said personally...as if he was a person at all. "I might as well be talking to myself," she realized.

"Then talk to yourself," he suggested. "I won't mind. And it's not as if it'll matter to me."

She found she had no argument with that...at least, none she could articulate. Maybe saying it would get it off her mind. "I'm...well, it's...I find you...your holo-image. It's attractive."

"What?"

"I find it attractive!" she groaned. "It...you...your holo-image. You originally looked like a miserable holoprogrammer from Jupiter Station. I couldn't picture a million of him charging into battle."

"I fail to see why this matters now..."

"Because...!" She'd forgotten that she was trying to pretend she was talking to herself. "I made you look like something I...appreciated...and I thought nothing of it, because I didn't expect to be stuck on the _Hrunting_ with you all this time." She could tell he didn't understand. "You see, people can become infatuated with...fantasies just as easily as with other people. As a holodeveloper, I've made a good living designing characters that drive end users to obsession."

"Why should anyone be obsessed with a hologram?" Ajax asked. "I'm not _real_ , Doctor. My emotional responses are just..." He remembered what she had said earlier. "...a collection of booleans returned by first order functions you wrote."

"Exactly!" Ijhel looked relieved that someone could see this point. Kreighen, Tirava, and Jimenez wouldn't have. "You're an impressive piece of software, Sergeant--if I do say so myself--but that's all. I find I have to remind myself of that with alarming frequency."

"But I would think you, of all people, would have no difficulty with that." He sat down beside her, and debated sharing his own private concerns. "I must admit that I've...had thoughts about you that can't be accounted for by my code coverage. I think you're...ah..."

Ijhel could see his difficulty. "Attractive," she offered, confident in that self-assessment.

"Attractive," he repeated. "But clearly that's an conclusion drawn on the comparative evolution of secondary sex characteristics in my medical database. Your...beauty...is an objective summary of thousands of variables, organized into a hash table and evaluated against a set of standard quantities that were rigorously constructed over thousands of years. That I'm aware of that data doesn't _mean_ anything."

"Well...that's true," she said reflexively, "but it's not the same for organic life forms. We're driven by chemical processes beyond our control--our conscious minds only came into existence to help perpetuate those processes. I'm more aware of it than most, because I develop programs like you that separate out those irrelevant urges. But unfortunately, I'm as affected by it as anyone...it's really quite insufferable..."

"I can imagine," he offered. "The body undergoes a neurochemical imbalance..." His voice began to carry a tune. "Hormones are raging...synapses blazing...it's all so ve--" Ajax caught himself approaching a high note.

Ijhel had the most puzzled look on her face. "What was _that_?"

"I'm not sure," Ajax admitted. After a few seconds checking a stack trace, he decided on an answer. "A piece of music. It must be a holdover from the Emergency Medical Holographic kernel, though I can't imagine what purpose it would serve."

"I didn't even know you could sing."

"Neither did I." He turned away, and for a moment she could almost believe a hologram could be embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," she insisted. The ship began to shudder harder than ever, and a load groan resonated throughout the deck. "Frankly, I could use the distraction. What song is it?"

"It's an aria from _Rigoletto_ ," he explained, "an opera written five hundred years ago by Guiseppe Verdi, about a duchy in 16th century Italy, where the court jester--"

"Sergeant." Ijhel rolled her eyes. "Sing the song."

"Right." Ajax rather unnecessarily cleared his throat, and accessed subroutines he had never actively considered before. " _La donna è mobile, qual piuma al vento..._ "

"Wait...I don't understand--"

Ajax was deeply bothered by this, to his own surprise. " _Do not_ interrupt," he said sternly. "Performance is a very delicate matter, and I won't have you disrupting my tempo!"

"I couldn't understand the lyrics!" she fumed. "Something's wrong with your universal translator..."

"No, _yours_ is not calibrated for Italian." Ajax composed himself. "The words aren't important. What matters is how the music enters one's soul, and uplifts the heart. But, to put it in the proper context, the Duke is complaining about the fickleness of women, oblivious to his own capriciousness--"

Another groan creaked through the hull. "Fine," Ijhel snapped. " _Sing_ , before this ship collapses around us!"

Ajax sneered, but did as she asked. Once more he took his time preparing his voice, and behaved as if he was waiting for a musical cue that only existed in his subroutines. This time, though, there was a defiant passion in his voice. " _La donna è mobile, qual piuma al vento, muta d'accento, e di pensiero._ "

She'd never heard anything like this. Ijhel was transfixed by the sound of his voice, connecting musical notes in ways she hadn't imagined. He saw she was impressed, and so emboldened, gestured with his arms to convey the essence of his performance. " _Sempre un amabile, leggiadro viso, in pianto o in riso, è menzognero._ "

As he reached the refrain, Ajax was too caught up in the song to think of anything else. " _La donna è **mobil'!** Qual piuma al **vento!** Muta d'accennnnnto...e di pensier'!_ " A pause. " _E di pensier'!_ " 

Another pause, and as he readied himself for the crescendo he leaned in to Ijhel. " _Eeeeeeeee **eeeeeeeeeeee**_..." 

By his nature, it was trivial to hold the note for hours. But it was the _way_ he held it--in the tradition of tenors from Mirate, Pavarotti, and Soral of Vulcan--that captivated her. For the first time, Ijhel looked into the sergeant's eyes...and saw his soul. In that moment, neither of them remembered to be the callous programmer or the stoic program.

She interrupted him again, reaching up to draw him closer. On instinct--or whatever simulated his instinct--he kissed her. The sensation was unexpected, and could not be traced to any known event listener. But he did not pause to analyze this, any more than she stopped to debug it. If he was only an illusion of a man, then it was now an illusion they both chose to believe.


	22. Chapter 22

Tirava heard the whir of a cyberarthrotic servo-motor, and spun around with her plasma disruptor in hand. She was a fraction of a second away from firing, when she saw it was only Hardcastle.

"Whoa, easy!" He held up his arms until she lowered the weapon. "I opened the hole in the shields, so I came down to check on you and your shuttle. Did they make it?"

She motioned back to the airlock. "I don't know! They docked a few minutes ago, but no one's coming out, and they won't answer my hails..."

"You don't think the Xhiryptyr'x could have got to them..."

"I don't see how." She was reminded to quickly scan the room for any sign of intruders. "They'd have to go through me to do it. Wait--"

Tirava's antenna twitched as she turned back to the airlock, her disruptor still in hand. Beyond Hardcastle's perception, she had sensed the change in air pressure on the other side of the hatch. Someone was coming out of the _Hrunting_. But at this point, neither of them were sure whom to expect.

The hatch began to move and Nathan Jimenez pushed his way through as soon as it was open wide enough. He led with a phaser, but he was less jumpy than Tirava, and quickly holstered it. His jaw was bruised and swollen, but he could still speak. "Janeway," he muttered. "Where's Janeway?"

***

She'd beamed herself out of the shuttle as soon as it docked, and found herself standing directly in front of the harmonic resonance chamber that housed the omega molecules. Janeway scanned the chamber with a tricorder, and didn't like what she found. She'd been hoping to only deal with a few million of the deadly molecules. Unimatrix Zero had synthesized nearly an entire mole of the stuff. And it was stable. There was no way she could break them down before the Borg got to them.

Frustrated, Janeway followed the power conduits connecting the chamber to Korok's omega mortar, and began climbing up to the turret. If she couldn't dissolve the omega molecules, she'd have to detonate them, and that would require a massive power source. Without the resources of a starship, she had nothing on hand. But she had a pretty good idea who did.

When she reached the gunner's chair, Janeway leveled her sidearm at Korok's head. "General," she said politely. "We need to talk."

The Klingon had his eyes locked on his targeting screen, eager for enemies to come into range. "The time for talking is over, Admiral. Whatever you have to say can wait."

"This weapon wasn't supposed to be built."

"All you cared about was making the Borg assume it was here," he argued. "I fail to see what difference it makes if the assumption is correct."

"A big one," she sneered, "especially if they overrun your intercomplex and assimilate omega."

He turned around to smile at her, with one gnarly fang poking out between his lips. "Then I will prevent that from happening," he smiled. "Return to your fleet, and leave the warmaking to warriors."

"You're missing the _point_." Janeway rubbed her chin, trying to find a way to make him understand. "I want to defeat the Borg as badly as anyone, but we can't rush headlong at them."

" _You_ aren't being asked to."

"General, I cannot let you take the war into your own hands. We have to destroy your supplies of omega immediately."

"I am uninterested in your recommendations!" Korok boomed. "I fought this war for nearly ten years, while you lounged in comfort in the Alpha Quadrant. Now you've provided me with the means to construct this weapon, to defeat my sworn enemy, and you would have us stand down. Where should the Zeroes retreat to, then? Will your alliance offer us refuge? Or should we continue to run from sector to sector, while the Collective slowly bleeds us like a wounded targ? No, _this_ is our one chance. I will not allow anyone to cost us this opportunity."

The viewscreen showed a number of subspace distortions forming in the vicinity of the station. Korok's eyes lit up, and he began calculating firing patterns. "It begins now, Admiral. If you intend to shoot me, I cannot stop you. But there is no one on this station who will help you destroy the omega molecules. If you cannot stomach what you have wrought, then return to whatever vessel brought you here, and go."

Janeway found she had no pithy response to that. For the first time since she led the fleet to the Delta Quadrant, she truly found herself in a no-win situation. So although she continued to train her weapon on Korok, she only stood and watched as transwarp conduits formed on the viewscreen, and produced several Borg cubes. One of them took the lead, and was presumably the source of a communique that was relayed through Korok's terminal.

"WE ARE THE BORG. WE HAVE ANALYZED YOUR DEFENSIVE CAPABILITIES AS BEING UNABLE TO WITHSTAND US. RESISTANCE IS--"

Korok fired his omega mortar, and the lead cube ceased to exist.


	23. Chapter 23

Data surveyed the wreckage on the _Excelsior_ 's bridge, and found that a bulkhead had collapsed on top of Sub-commander Velor. Before anyone even had a chance to contact sickbay, the android had moved across the room and was hauling the enormous debris off his first officer. Once a medic was available to stabilize Velor's condition, Data returned to the center of the bridge...or what was left of it.

"Report!" he said, over the sound of burning equipment, coughing crewman, and the rattling hull.

Rik'tarrin was among the first to her feet after the last hit, and was pulling up reports from multiple stations until the other posts could be manned. "Only six ships made it out of the last strafing run! Shields at eleven percent! Engineering reports a coolant leak! Hull breaches on decks fourteen and twenty-two!"

They'd been at this for over an hour. With Borg forces guarding Metanexus 211 at full strength, they could only hope to capture the facility through a combination of luck and guile. So Data had devised a strategy of concealing the size of the armada with cloaking devices and sensor ghosts, while picking off cubes one by one. His forces were making progress, but it was slow going. It was only a matter of time before the Borg adapted to these tactics, which could even lead the Collective to determine a way to detect the cloaked Alliance ships. And with so many Borg vessels to contend with, they had yet to even put a dent into the immense metanexus.

Data found his way back to the captain's chair and punched up the latest statistics. He'd lost nearly a third of his ships. Borg losses were more difficult to gauge, but he estimated that the enemy fleet was approximately 73.148% of it's strength before the attack. The battle could still be won, but it would be a very bloody matter.

"Notify the fleet," he ordered, "that we will be regrouping for another pass. Waves beta and delta will re-cloak. Gamma and epsilon will de-cloak on my mark."

"Captain!" Rik'tarrin interrupted. "I'm picking up massive energy surges in the Borg ships."

Data looked to her quizzically. "To which ships do you refer, Colonel?"

She double-checked her readings, just to be sure. "All of them."

In unison, every cube and sphere in the battlefield came to a full stop, and generated a bright green glow. The _Excelsior_ 's sensors lit up with a cacophony of neutrino and tachyon signatures.

"Mister Thompson!" the captain shouted. "Alert all ships to get clear of the transwarp conduits, immediately!"

Most of them were able to comply. Those that didn't were crushed, caught in the subspace undertow as the immense Borg vessels were pulled into their conduits. In a matter of seconds, the entire Collective fleet was gone. A strange calm fell over the sector, as the Allied armada found itself with nothing left to fight. Only Metanexus 211 remained, though it could only wait for the attackers to enter weapons range.

"She did it." Data closed his eyes and took a long, deep sigh.

"Sir?" Rik'tarrin asked.

"My apologies. I was referring to Admiral Janeway's diversionary tactic, which now appears to have taken effect." He took the time to survey the bridge, and the debris floating across the viewscreen. Before he had gained the capacity for emotion, Data had never comprehended the purpose of expending time in this manner. However, his military service had shown him the value of this experience, even if he could not quantify it.

Colonel Rik'tarrin, on the other hand, was only interested in finishing the mission. "What are your orders, Captain?"

"Prepare to separate the ship," he finally explained. "Assemble a skeleton crew to man the saucer. All other available personnel will report to the drive section to assist in repairs to engineering. Mister Thompson, I want a full status report from each of our ships. I will then determine which of them will join us in the final push."

"Yes sir," Thompson answered hastily. "So then...you think we've really won, sir?"

Data shook his head slightly. "Steady, Mister Thompson. Idiomatically, we have not yet emerged from a heavily forested area into less difficult terrain."

***

When Vystir transmitted information to the Collective about Unimatrix Zero's new weapon, only a handful of Borg vessels were dispatched to respond. By the time the weapon had been armed, and power signatures could be detected across a dozen sectors, several dozen ships had changed course for a closer look. After General Korok destroyed a cube with one shot of the omega mortar, every Borg spacecraft within five hundred light years had rendezvoused at Intercomplex 934.

The Zeroes were in poor shape to defend themselves. Within the station, the Xhiryptyr'x were wreaking havoc--their uprising had quickly degenerated into a directionless riot. Their fleet amounted to a several dozen secondhand cubes and spheres, which were now hopelessly outnumbered. The omega mortar that was to be their great hope was now their first and last line of defense. Korok was comfortable with that arrangement.

He now had more targets than he knew what to do with. But then, that made it difficult to miss. With Admiral Janeway looking on in horror, the old Klingon warrior rapidly fired into the cloud of enemy ships. Every hit was a kill, every shot took at least one ship with it.

The mortar worked by using a field of omega molecules to generate electrostrong forces, which were conducive to producing mass quantities of magnetic monopoles, which would then be blasted out of the intercomplex's massive barrel. Upon collision with a target, the monopoles accelerated the proton decay of conventional matter, turning atoms into a soup of gamma rays and positrons. The fusillade turned whatever it struck into a chain reaction of nuclear and antimatter explosions. There was no defense against firepower of this nature.

And then the Xhiryptyr'x fleet arrived.


	24. Chapter 24

A Xhiryptyr'x carrier was nearly as large as a Borg cube, though far less maneuverable. But its greatest tactical strength was its crew, generating massive neurogenic fields for use in attack and defense. So when thirty-seven of them arrived at Intercomplex 934, and encountered several hundred Borg vessels, they showed no trepidation in launching a direct assault.

With Unimatrix Zero defending a stationary target and the Xhiryptyr'x unable to reach that target, the Borg fleet was effectively caught in a crossfire. The Collective's strategic directives deemed this scenario irrelevant particularly given their superior numbers. But these directives were obsolete in between the Zeroes' omega mortar and the Xhiryptyr'x's psionic blasts. While Korok blasted cubes away one by one, the formerly mysterious "Species 10538" tore through the rear echelons to get to their enslaved people on the intercomplex.

The _Stormwind_ held its position just outside of the fray, still under cloak to avoid detection by any of these combatants. The Federation starship would be unwelcome by any of the three forces. And yet, somehow, its crew had to find a way to put a stop to the battle.

On the bridge, Kreighen was speechless as he witnessed the carnage on the viewscreen. Although he had briefed the crew about the dangers they faced, he alone knew the true scope of the disaster beginning in front of him. The Q Continuum believed that Janeway's aggressive pursuit of the war would embolden the Zeroes, which would increase tensions between the Borg and the Xhiryptyr'x, until the Borg discovered that the Xhiryptyr'x represented a nascent cosmic power. The Q believed that if the Borg assimilated such a transcendent race, the Collective might overrun the entire universe. They were so afraid of that possibility that they didn't dare intervene directly. So they recruited Kreighen to act on their behalf, to prevent the conflict that had just begun.

"It appears your plans for defusing this crisis are no longer applicable," Captain Lancaster told him, concealing any traces of concern for the fate of the Federation. "Suggestions."

"The cloaking device is working perfectly," Narb-Uzek began, "but based on what Commander Kreighen has told us about the Xhiryptyr'x, it won't hide us from them for long. We can't stay here."

"Well, we certainly cannot get any closer to the Intercomplex," Mindek added. "Any course we take would put us in the crossfire...to say nothing of passing by at least fifty Borg ships."

Ben-Aharon offered her input. "Without access to a starbase, it'll be days before I can restore the crew's immunity to Borg nanoprobes."

"Preliminary scans of the Unimatrix Zero weapon are inconclusive," Robinson chimed in. "Whatever it is, it's changing the laws of physics as we understand them. We'd never get close enough to it to shut it down."

Lancaster held out his hand, signalling to his officers that he'd heard enough. The case for withdrawal was clear. "Do you see any alternative, Number One?"

He had failed, and there was nothing left to do. But Kreighen couldn't give up. He already had once today, and Ijhel's response to that still resonated within him. Whatever happened, he had to see this through.

"Just one, sir," he announced. "The original plan will still work."

Mindek was dubious. "With all due respect, Commander, the original plan was to distract the Zeroes with a squad of attack fighters while two dozen heavily armed officers beamed into Korok's command center."

"That was when we were hoping to force the Zeroes to stand down," Kreighen argued. "We obviously can't do that now, and we can't win this one with attack fighters and a full-scale raid. But the _Stormwind_ can still get an away team through the intercomplex's shields with a near-warp subspace transporter beam. Its just gonna have to be an away team of two: Sergeant Ajax and myself."

Lancaster hadn't dismissed the idea yet. "Explain."

"The away team has to be protected from Borg assimilation and whatever telepathic attacks the Xhiryptyr'x can launch against the station. I'm immune to both right now--Doctor Ben-Aharon found enough keniclizene and similinhibitizine in my system to take care of that. And Ajax is a hologram, so for him it's a moot point."

"Granting that's true," Mindek replied, "suppose we beam you down there while we speed off at maximum warp. What can you accomplish?" 

"I'm still working on that," Kreighen admitted. He didn't dare let those words hang in the air long enough for Lancaster to sour on the proposal. "I _know_ it's a longshot, Captain, and a half-baked one. But it's either that, or get out of here right now. At least this way I'll be down there, with a chance to salvage this mess."

"I'd be more inclined to agree," Lancaster countered, "if you had the faintest notion of _how_ to 'salvage this mess.'"

Kreighen shook his head. "To be blunt, Captain, I feel like I'm making this up as I go along, every day, twenty-five minutes to midnight. But it's gotten me this far. You said it yourself, sir--you'll get the best out of me when I don't have a way out. I don't know what's waiting for me over there, but I'm willing to bet Janeway left my shuttle in one of the docking bays. And if I can get to the _Hrunting_ , I can take on the world."

Lancaster stared him in the eye, searching for some other way. "Very well," he finally relented. "But to be clear: This is not a suicide mission, Commander. Do no mistake yourself for a man with nothing left to lose."

Kreighen spared a thought for his crew--Ijhel, who would be left behind on this ship; Tirava, who he could only hope to find, and Jimenez, who he didn't dare hope to save. "Understood, sir."


	25. Chapter 25

"It's about time," Kreighen grumbled when he saw the transporter room door open. "What the hell took you so long?"

Ajax didn't answer readily, which in itself was unusual for the holo-soldier. Instead he sheepishly deferred to Doctor Ijhel, who struggled with an answer. "Well..." she began. "You see, the ship was shaking and I...I tripped, and--it was all rather embarrassing, of course--and Ajax _insisted_ on tending to an inconsequential bruise. You know how he is."

"So did you?" Kreighen asked him.

Ajax was the most nervous photonic projection known to science. "Did...I what?"

"Take care of her?"

"I..."

Ijhel cut him off. "I'm fine. We're all fine." She quickly changed the subject. "Jake, there has to be some other way."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Utana. It's either this, or full-blown raid that'll get everyone aboard killed."

"Is there anything _I_ can do?" she wondered.

"You've done your part," Kreighen assured her. He held out his palm, in the tradition of her people, and she pressed her own against it. "These folks will get you to safety. I won't be far behind..." He glanced to Ajax. "And I won't be alone."

It wasn't very Cardassian to get misty-eyed, but Ijhel came close. "I'd appreciate that, Commander," she said, though she was looking at Ajax. "Don't leave any of them behind."

Lieutenant Robinson, standing by at the transporter controls, interrupted their little moment. "It's time, Commander."

"I won't let you down," Kreighen promised Ijhel, and then nodded to Ajax. The hologram quickly deactivated himself for transport, leaving only a small mobile holo-emitter for Kreighen to carry in his pocket.

Once he was on the transporter, Robinson completed a series of commands. "All right, as soon as the ship decelerates to 98% lightspeed, we're going to beam in from two light years away, through their shields, while we accelerate back to maximum warp. This may feel a little strange, Commander. Are you up for this?"

Kreighen nodded slightly. "How strange could it--" The sentence was cut off as his body shimmered into a beam of energy, broadcast through subspace.

***

When he materialized at Intercomplex 934, Kreighen promptly threw up.

With that unpleasantness out of the way, he took stock of his situation. He found himself in a deserted subjunction of the station, though he could hear the commotion of battle all around him. It was fair to guess that the Xhiryptyr'x trapped in the intercomplex had taken up arms against the Zeroes, and that neither side considered this particular area worth defending. He was supposed to have beamed in right outside the bay where the _Hrunting_ was docked, though there were no guarantees about his mode of travel, as his stomach had just proven.

Kreighen stepped around the mess he'd made, and decided to wait until he'd gone around the corner to activate Ajax. That was a fortuitous decision, because he found himself stumbling over a familiar-looking cyborg. It was one of the Zeroes. And of all the Zeroes it could have been, it had to be him. During Kreighen's time spent with the Q, they had allowed him to see how Tirava was spending her time on Intercomplex 934...and she was spending it with this man.

The Zero was prostrate, and apparently immobilized. Kreighen couldn't do much for him, save for turning on his holographic companion. "I take it that transport was executed normally," the sergeant said once he was online.

"Oh yeah," the commander said, wiping his lip. "Smooth as Exxorian ice." He gestured to the man on the floor. "Can you do anything for him?"

It occurred to Ajax that the question was unwise--tactically speaking, it did them to good to lend aid to any the Zeroes right now. But Kreighen was his commanding officer, which was enough for the soldier in him to switch over to his medical subroutines. From there, it was simply a matter of his programming to provide care to any sentient being within range of his program. 

Ajax reflexively held out his hand for Kreighen to provide him with an instrument. "Tricorder."

That flummoxed the commander, who wasn't accustomed to playing nurse. He fumbled through his gear and passed Ajax a tricorder.

Ajax looked at the tool as if he'd been handed a pile of dog droppings. " _Medical_ tricorder," he groaned. When Kreighen could only respond with a shrug, he rolled his eyes and made do with what he had.

"He's taken a direct hit to his upper thoracic assembly, but his Borg exo-plating seems to have absorbed most of the damage. Looks like it shook loose the T7 spinal clamp..." Ajax pocketed the tricorder, and swiftly lifted the Zero to dramatically pop his back into alignment. In a split second, the man had returned to his senses and was able to stand.

"Commander," Ajax said after seeing the patient to his feet, "the scoring on this man's exo-plating is consistent with Starfleet-issue phasers."

"That's because I was shot by a woman in a Starfleet uniform," the Zero explained. As he regained his bearings, he examined the sergeant, and then the commander. "You must be Kreighen," he said, offering his hand. "I'm Lieutenant Commander Flint Hardcastle, from the USS _Tom_ \--"

" _I know who you are_ ," Kreighen replied coldly. But there wasn't time to waste on jealousy, so he slowly accepted Hardcastle's handshake. "I assume this woman had to be human, Betazoid, or Andorian."

"Betazoid. If you're wondering about Admiral Janeway, I never saw her come aboard. Your friend Jimenez came out of the _Hrunting_ looking for her. Av--" Hardcastle thought better of calling her that. "--Lieutenant Tirava was happy to go with him to find her. I was supposed to keep an eye on the shuttle. We didn't know anyone else was still aboard."

"We've got to find them," Kreighen decided. He started to pick up the polaron rifle that was hanging from his shoulder, but he stopped to consider his sidearm. "Can you defend yourself?"

"I'm a Zero," Hardcastle answered, showing off the extensive Borg modifications to his right arm, including a wrist-mounted plasma disruptor. Kreighen took his point, and tossed his hand phaser to Ajax instead. "You mind filling me on what's going on?"

Kreighen tried his best to summarize as he double-checked his rifle. "You've got a couple hundred Borg trying to assimilate your omega molecules. The haven't yet, because a Xhiryptyr'x fleet is tearing through them to get revenge on you for enslaving their people. Jimenez and his girlfriend want to swipe omega and defect to the Collective. And if I know Janeway, she's trying to blow everybody up."

"I take it Starfleet is here to stop all of them."

"Not Starfleet," Kreighen smiled as he took his tricorder back from Ajax. "Just me. So I'm gonna have to ask: Which side are you on?"

"Looks like 'stop all of them' needs the most help," Hardcastle decided. "But I get the feeling you don't want to know who it is I'm doing this for."

Kreighen side-eyed him as he scanned for Starfleet power signatures. "Nope."

"Fair enough." The Zero gestured towards a large corridor. "My ocular implants show they went that way--it's the shortest route to the harmonic resonance chambers. But I can imagine why you'd trust your instruments more than me, so lead the way, Mister Kreighen."

"Call me 'Commander.'"


	26. Chapter 26

"Hello, Jake."

Kreighen cursed himself under his breath. The drugs in his bloodstream could block telepathic signals, but there was a big difference between blocking his thoughts from Vystir and preventing her from sensing his approach. And if Vystir knew he was coming, so did Jimenez. So much for a sneak attack.

He motioned for Ajax and Hardcastle to follow him into the chamber. "You don't sound surprised to see me, Nathan."

"I had a feeling you'd come after me." 

Kreighen couldn't pinpoint the source of his voice, forcing his party to search further and further into the room. "That's a funny feeling," he called out, "considering you left me to die on the _Stormwind_."

"You wouldn't have died."

"Why, because the Borg would have assimilated me?" He threw a couple of hand signals to Ajax and Hardcastle, sending them to fan out. "You know as well as I do, they'll let ten people die to assimilate eleven. They're not trying to save everyone, Nathan--they just want to _control_ everyone."

"After all this time, you still don't understand them," Jimenez argued. "They're a decentralized collective, with no leaders. They 'control' each other."

"What about those Borg children you met? Were they controlling anybody?"

There was an uncomfortable silence, long enough for Kreighen to guess what Jimenez would say next. "You ordered their deaths."

"The Borg didn't leave me any choice."

"There's always a choice!" The echo of his shout disoriented Kreighen, forcing him to spend endless seconds to adjust his hearing, and listen for any sign of the ensign's location. "You could have chosen to give in. You just don't like to do that..."

"And you do? Kid, you're as stubborn as anyone I've ever met, and that's saying something. You're not doing any of this to surrender to the inevitable. You're just doing it to spite everyone who got in your way..."

Kreighen figured he got to Jimenez with that one, because it took him a few moments to come up with a response. "Very soon, there won't be anyone to get in our way."

"Dammit, Nathan, this isn't you! You sound like some tin-plated Cardassian warlord!"

"And what _is_ me, Jake? An uptight engineer, tripping over his own words? Were you happier with me when I was bottling up my contempt for what Starfleet did to us? Or is it just that you liked me better when you could pretend I was your sidekick."

"That's not what I meant..." Kreighen needed to get control of this dialogue, and fast. "Has it even occurred to you that all of this just got planted into your head somehow?"

"Planted?"

"You spent a lot of time in contact with those ex-drones back at that prison. Who knows what that could have done to your head."

"Or maybe nothing happened, Jake. Maybe I've just realized what I was always meant to do. Maybe you just never understood me in the first place."

"Maybe so. But if that's the way it is..." _Stall, dammit _, he told himself, _stall!_ "You deserve to know I respected you. I still do. I didn't come here to kill you, Nathan. You know if I had, I would have already made my move."__

__"I know," Jimenez admitted. "That's why I've already made mine. You might as well turn around now."_ _

__It sounded like a trick, but the beep of a phaser behind him definitely did not. Kreighen spun around to see the weapon pointed at him, in a pair of familiar blue hands. Tirava's whole body was shaking, and her face was dripping with sweat...but he could tell she would fire if he didn't yield._ _

__Carefully, and in plain sight, he slowly knelt down to put his weapons on the deckplate. "Nathan," he said calmly, "what have you done?"_ _

__"We couldn't make her understand," Vystir said over Tirava's communicator. It was now clear that this was how Kreighen had been talking to Jimenez for the past few minutes. "So we adapted. It's remarkable, isn't it, Commander? Throughout Betazoid history, no one from my species has ever exerted this kind of control over another person! The skills I have learned from the Borg have made this possible!"_ _

__"Swell," Kreighen muttered as he held up his hands._ _


	27. Chapter 27

"I'm not getting any readings," Godavarthy reported to Captain Lancaster. "Whatever Unimatrix Zero's new weapon is, it's offline now."

Lancaster approached the viewscreen, which displayed _Stormwind_ 's aft view of the battle. With the omega mortar out of commission, the swarm of Borg cubes now tightened around Intercomplex 934. the Xhiryptyr'x ships continued to attack, but there simply weren't enough of them to punch through the Borg's lines. "Status of Zero forces?"

"They're in full withdrawal," Narb-Uzek answered. "They're abandoning the station. It's over."

"I beg to differ, Lieutenant." Ijhel had been on the bridge ever since the _Stormwind_ dropped off Kreighen and Ajax. Lancaster was beginning to regret that he'd permitted this. "Captain, we must go back for them."

His response was coldly honest. "Doctor, this vessel barely made it through the battlefield to put them there. There's nothing more we can do to assist Commander Kreighen, and he knew that when he beamed down."

"Given there is nothing we can do," Mindek observed, "is there any point in holding our position?"

Lancaster released a heavy sigh. "The Borg will either assimilate the means to produce omega molecules, or trigger a subspace explosion. Either way, there's nothing we can do now but assess the threat to the Alliance. We will remain here for as long as possible, and gather all the information we can."

"Captain, as long as we're staying," Ijhel protested, "there's no reason not to try to recover your first officer!"

"Madam, your efforts are futile." Lancaster stared her down with an authority she hadn't yet encountered in a Starfleet officer. "At this range, the transporter system would never be able to lock a beam onto any individual life sign."

Ijhel refused to back down, and fully intended to tell the captain off. But there was nothing to say. He was right, and she knew it. There was nothing left for her to do but to leave the bridge, and contemplate fate--her own, and that of the galaxy...

***

By the time Kreighen caught side of Hardcastle again, he was in the same condition as Tirava--bleary-eyed and acting not of his own volition. There was no sign of Ajax, but then again he was in no position to go looking for the sergeant, with Tirava's weapon up against his back.

As he was led through the intercomplex, he saw Borg drones beaming in left and right. Clearly they had overwhelmed Unimatrix Zero. But instead of searching for the omega molecules, they simply stood and waited. It was curious behavior for the Borg...unless they knew that the task had been assigned to someone else in their ranks.

He was finally brought to an assimilation bay, where Jimenez and Vystir were loading a large storage container into the cargo hold of the _Hrunting_. Admiral Janeway and General Korok were also there--still alive, surprisingly, but as motionless as statues.

"You have to admit, Jake," Jimenez smiled as he returned from the shuttle, "I got you there."

"You did," Kreighen grudgingly admitted. "Though I'm surprised you didn't kill me as soon as you had the chance. Or anyone here."

"I considered it," Jimenez admitted. "But we decided their brain power was better put to good use. Besides, each of you possesses high-value intelligence. Sooner or later Merrani will be able to assimilate whatever's on your mind."

"Did she assimilate that Janeway thinks she contacted the Borg behind your back?" Kreighen wondered.

Jimenez grimaced. "Janeway has proven to be a tough nut to crack. But I already know about that, so there's no use driving a wedge between us. Really, it all worked out for the best."

Vystir wandered up to her lover's side and continued his train of thought. "As we've experimented with exerting control over others, my telepathic abilities continue to grow. We've even established contact with the Borg before they beamed--" she shuddered as though struck by a cold breeze.

"You'll have to excuse her, Jake," Jimenez explained. "The sight of you reminds her of some...intense experiences she found in Tirava's head."

But Kreighen was more ashamed for the pair than offended by them. "This is what you aspire to, Nathan? You and your girl getting off on other people's memories? Is that what you think is gonna happen if you join the Borg?"

"We don't have to join the Borg." Jimenez gestured to an empty space twenty yards away, and in seconds a squad of drones beamed to that position. "They're joining us."

"We petitioned the entity you think of as 'the Borg queen,'" Vystir elaborated. "But what you imagine to be her authority is simply the summation of the Collective's root directives. The highest of those directives is to assimilate the omega molecule. When Nathan and I secured control of it, we became their highest priority."

"Then tell them to surrender to the Federation," Kreighen suggested. "War's over, problem solved."

Vystir cocked her head. "You overestimate the extent of our influence...for now. It will take time to expose all of the Borg to our message."

"And that message isn't in support of the Borg _or_ the Federation, Jake." Jimenez seemed to glow as he described it. "There's a third way now. We can teach the Borg that they can exist in perfection and assimilate the universe without hurting anyone. You won't _have_ to fight them anymore."

"I just have to let them absorb my culture and my society, right?"

"Your society is small, and thinks in small terms," Jimenez retorted. "The Borg aren't perfect either, but at least they can adapt. And now they'll adapt to service us."

Kreighen crossed his arms. "I don't think the Queen will just roll over and let that happen."

"She will not comply," Vystir agreed. "But we will possess omega, and the secrets of Species 10538."

Jimenez could see that got his attention. "You didn't think we wouldn't figure that out, did you? The Borg wait until they have all the facts before they reach a conclusion, but we don't. The Xhiryptyr'x are potentially the next great power in the Delta Quadrant. That distinction is going to belong to us."

Kreighen's worst fears hadn't even covered this possibility. It was getting harder to maintain a brave, defiant stance in the face of defeat. "If you two have it all figured out, why waste time telling me?"

"Because it's our time to waste," Jimenez gloated. He walked up to Kreighen, and put his finger on the commander's temple. "We've won, Jake. All that's left is to find out what you're hiding in there. What you really know about the Xhiryptyr'x. How you suddenly showed up in that prison without a starship. Why Merrani hasn't been able to read your thoughts..."

Jimenez's eyes widened, and he turned to Vystir seconds before she spoke. "Keniclizene," she whispered. "He was injected with keniclizene...but it's wearing off..."

"Nobody's used that stuff in centuries," Jimenez said. He grabbed Kreighen by the collar, and pressed him for more details. "Who gave it to you? How did you even know you'd need to defend yourself against invasive telepathy?"

Kreighen struggled against his grip, but the phaser at his back ensured he didn't resist too much. "They...they didn't tell me I would..."

" _Who?_ " Jimenez thundered.

Five feet behind him, Vystir shut her eyes tightly, and concentrated. "I've...almost...he's resisting. But I've found where he's hiding...a single word...syllable...a letter..."

Before she could uncover the secret, she lost consciousness. In an instant, Jimenez sensed it and turned away to Kreighen to see what happened. What he found was Vystir's body, limp, but supported by some unseen force. And then that force revealed itself, as color flooded into photonic fields, and made Ajax visible once again. His fingers were still on her shoulder, applying a Vulcan nerve hold.

Jimenez only had a second to realize the magnitude of this. With Vystir unconscious, he could not extract any secrets from Kreighen's mind. He could not apply his own mental capacity to powerful telepathic abilities. He could not restrain Janeway or Korok. And most importantly, he could not control Hardcastle or Tirava.

Panicking, he swung around to face Kreighen again, only to find that Tirava was one step ahead. Her mind and body had been usurped for the last time, and any friendship they once shared would not stop her from having revenge. Her phaser fell to the floor as she ran up and leaped at Jimenez, to beat him with her bare hands.

Kreighen, for his part, could only stand there gaping at Ajax. "What--how-- _when were you gonna tell me you could do that!?_ "

Ajax lowered Vystir to the ground, and shrugged at him. "Stealth isn't very important when you're fighting Borg."

"It certainly won't help now," Hardcastle added. 

His point reminded Kreighen of the garrison of drones that had just beamed in, who were now lumbering across the room to protect their masters. Along with Janeway and Korok--who by this time had both regained their senses--they backed away, gathering together in a tight formation. As Tirava continued to pummel Jimenez, Kreighen gave her a tap on the shoulder, bringing her out of her rage long enough to notice the situation.

"I don't understand," Janeway muttered. "He can't control them without her..."

Jimenez managed to sit up and wipe the blood from his face. "We're not like you," he spat. "They follow us because they _choose_ to. You won't win..."

As, Ajax, Tirava, Hardcastle, Janeway, and Korok huddled alongside him, Kreighen realized that most of them were unarmed. It would take the Borg a few seconds at the most to capitalize on that fact. "Everybody head for the shuttle," he said quietly. "Don't look back, just run."

As they turned to flee, Jimenez continued to assert his victory. "It doesn't matter if you get away or not!" he shouted. "You can't punch your way out of this, Jake! None of you can!"


	28. Chapter 28

They weren't beaten yet. There was still a chance.

The omega molecules aboard the _Hrunting_ , which made the shuttle the most valuable real estate in Borg space. And once Kreighen controlled the _Hrunting_ , once he had reached the pilot's seat.

Sensors and viewscreens came to life as he ran startup routines. Behind him he could hear the others fumbling about in the limited space of the cabin. Once he had a clear picture from outside, he could see that his slim hope was confirmed: The mob of Borg drones had the shuttle surrounded, but were keeping their distance.

But he couldn't waste time worrying about the Borg. Or even Jimenez, still pulling himself to his feet after the thrashing he'd received from Tirava. The biggest threat now was Merrani Vystir, still sprawled on the ground after Ajax's nerve pinch, but not for long. If the Betazoid's telepathy had really enthralled the Borg from hundreds of kilometers away, as she'd claimed, then there was still a danger that she could subdue anyone aboard the _Hrunting_.

He could have locked weapons on her. In fact, as Tirava took her place at tactical, she could have annihilated everyone standing outside the shuttle before he'd have a chance to lock out her station. But with a quick glance over his shoulder, their eyes met, and found consensus. No matter how much sense it made, neither of them had the stomach to open fire. Vystir had taken Jimenez away from them, and knowing the pain of that they couldn't stomach the thought of taking her away from him. 

That meant they had to leave, now, which meant there was no hope of taking Jimenez with them. As Kreighen completed takeoff and raised shields, he took one last look through the canopy at his former friend, ranting maniacally amid his Borg followers, and fought back a tear. He would have to shoot out the bay doors to escape, and for a few moments he couldn't decide whether it would be better if Jimenez had the sense to get away before the sudden decompression. But the point was moot--Intercomplex 934 sealed the breach almost as soon as _Hrunting_ passed through it.

Admiral Janeway, General Korok, and Commander Hardcastle had their own ideas about what needed to be done, but on the _Hrunting_ they were simply passengers. Whatever authority Starfleet and Unimatrix Zero ever had over the shuttle had long since been wiped out of the computer. Kreighen was in command, Tirava was the first officer. And Ajax, under the circumstances, as _de facto_ chief of security. So the holographic soldier struggled to keep the passengers out of the way of the crew.

Korok in particular was livid. "You wretched _bIHnuch!_ We must go back and destroy that _petaQ_ while we still can!"

Krieghen didn't even look at him as he responded in kind. "Fuck off, you backstabbing son of a bitch."

Gravely offended (and mildly confused) by human profanities, Korok turned his attention to Tirava. "You couldn't kill him, could you, _taHqeq_? You honorless little _sli'Vak_..."

"I assume you need him alive," Tirava grumbled to Kreighen.

"I sure as hell don't need him conscious," he suggested. And so, while he performed evasive maneuvers around dozens of Borg vessels, Tirava fractured Korok's skull.

Janeway chose her words carefully before taking up Korok's point. "With...respect, Commander, you can't outrun these Borg. Sooner or later they'll recapture omega, and rejoin the Collective with everything Jimenez has learned about the Xhiryptyr'x."

" _I know that_ , Admiral," Kreighen snapped. "That's why I'm not trying to outrun them. I just have to stay ahead of them. I assume that you couldn't safely neutralize the omega molecules."

"There's too much of it," she answered. "And not enough time. We'd need a gravimetric torpedo to get rid of them."

Hardcastle, who hadn't even been aboard a Federation spacecraft in over twenty years, stopped marveling at the vessel's design long enough to comment. "Even this shuttle doesn't have that kind of firepower."

"Yes, it does." Kreighen looked over to Tirava as he addressed the _Hrunting_ itself. "Computer, this is Lieutenant Commander Jacob A. Kreighen, commanding officer, requesting security access. Initiate destruct sequence one, code seven alpha, three mu."

Tirava's antenna dipped, and she lowered her head in resignation. "Computer, this is Lieutenant junior grade Tirava, first officer. Destruct sequence two, code sixteen zeta, zero psi."

It was a drastic solution, but these were drastic times. Aside from the presently indisposed Korok, they had all been Starfleet officers, trained (or programmed) to recognize their duty in any given situation. It was unacceptable to let the Borg leave this sector, but there was no way to defeat a fleet of this size without detonating the omega molecules. And the only sure way to do that was a runaway matter/antimatter reaction in the shuttle's warp core.

"Identity confirmed," _Hrunting_ replied. "Destruct sequence completed and engaged. Awaiting final code and time for final countdown."

"Begin sixty-second countdown," Kreighen replied. "Code zero zero zero destruct zero." By rote, the computer initiated red alert status is it programmed the fuel injection systems to irreversibly overload at the specified time.

An uncomfortable silence followed, until Tirava changed the subject. "So is anyone going to tell me what happened to Ijhel?" Ajax turned away, immediately fascinated by a bulkhead.

"She's safe." Kreighen got out of his chair and approached his Andorian comrade. He'd dreamed for weeks of this reunion. He hadn't envisioned it going like this.

Neither had Tirava. "Good," she shrugged. "The way things were going, I half-expected she ran off to work for the Ferengi."

Kreighen took her blue hand in his. "Tirava...I just want you to know..." he couldn't help but laugh. "This is _not_ what I had in mind..."

"I...was..." She startled to chuckle at him cracking up. "I was going to come back for you, pinksin," she joked. "You didn't give me enough time!"

"Kreighen, look!" Janeway drew their attention to a bright glow filling the canopy, before she took the helm herself. A scientist to the bitter end, she began gathering sensor data. "I'm picking up an unprecedented neurogenic field...no effect on the Borg or the station."

Kreighen returned to the cockpit and stood over her shoulder. "What about the Xhiryptyr'x?"

"They're...gone." Janeway swiveled her seat to confront him. "What was it Jimenez thought you knew about them?"

But the shuttle's computer got the last word. "Warning: ten seconds to auto-destruct. Nine... Eight... Seven... Six..."

***

There was a bright light, and then an enveloping warmth, and finally emptiness. And then a transporter pad.

Kreighen realized that he'd never even heard the shuttle's countdown reach "five." As he took stock, he found the other passengers of the _Hrunting_ standing around him (or in Korok's case, lying). He'd beamed in facing the back of the pad, but that was enough to tell this wasn't a Borg ship. He doubted it was Xhiryptyr'x design either, though he couldn't put anything past them.

Could the Q have intervened? He turned around slowly, half-afraid to find himself hurled back in time. Again. But when he finally saw the rest of the transporter room, he recognized it as the same one he'd used to beam down to Intercomplex 934 in the first place. He was back on the _Stormwind_.

Along with a both a security detail and a team of medics, Captain Lancaster was there to greet the new arrivals. "Welcome aboard. Since I've no idea which of you require medical attention and which of you constitute a threat to my ship, I propose that you all come peacefully to sickbay, and we'll sort it out there. Are there any objections?"

Janeway was too surprised to be alive to put up a fight this time. Whatever her quarrel had been--or might still be--with Lancaster, she saw no point in continuing it now. "No, Captain," she smiled, raising her hands. "We won't resist. And we appreciate your fairness."

Even Kreighen had to admit that she was insufferably charming. "You heard the admiral, everybody," he said to the others. "No sudden moves...they're on edge just as much as we are." As he stepped off the pad, he looked to the captain. "How did you find us, sir?"

"I'd be at a loss to explain the complete recalibration of our targeting algorithms. I suggest you take it up with our new 'transporter chief.'" Lancaster motioned to his officers to stand at ease, and step aside. As they cleared away from the main console, Kreighen could see Utana Ijhel manning the post.

She looked exhausted, as one would upon rewriting an entire set of Starfleet subroutines in under an hour. But it was clear from her face that it had been worth it, to see her friends again. "It...it proved to be rather simple," she dissembled. "The real difficulty was convincing the captain to try."

The happy reunion was interrupted by an intense rumble reverberating through the hull. Not given to panic, Lancaster rode it out and tapped his commbadge. "Bridge, this is the captain. Report."

Mindek answered his summons. "Readings are limited, Captain. We've been hit by a massive shockwave, apparently caused by a subspace rupture near Intercomplex 934. We're clear of the phenomenon, but only barely. It measures..." Her voice wavered. "Sir, this can't be..."

" _Report_ , Mister Mindek."

"Apologies, sir. Sensors show the rupture to be _nine point four_ light years across."

***

>   
> Captain's log, stardate 63590.5.
> 
> Following the successful capture of Metanexus 211, the fleets that participated in the armada have spread out across the front lines, to address the remnants of Borg forces cut off from the Collective command structure. Cross-reference with Commodore's Log, stardate 63587.2, for my deepest appreciation and respect for the valor shown by the officers under my command, prior to my self-deactivation as acting commodore.
> 
> Following Admiral Janeway's failure to contact Allied Command, a task force led by the _Excelsior_ has rendezvoused with the USS _Stormwind_ , which was assigned to the admiral during Operation: Nimrod. 
> 
> Preliminary reports from Captain Daniel Lancaster of the _Stormwind_ have indicated that Unimatrix Zero was forced by the Borg to withdraw from Intercomplex 934. The station and at least four hundred Borg vessels are now considered a total loss, having been encompassed within a...phenomenon. See classified Captain's Log, protected entries, for further analysis and commentary.
> 
> The substantial losses suffered by Unimatrix Zero has necessitated an immediate response. In lieu of direct contact with Allied Command, I have agreed to participate in high-level discussions alongside Admiral Janeway, her adjutant Captain Elglen, and Captain Lancaster.  
> 

With Captain Data's people overseeing the repairs, and most of the top brass in the sector conferring with Unimatrix Zero's leasdership, most of the _Stormwind_ personnel might as well have been on vacation. But for the crew of the _Hrunting_ , it had been more difficult to rest and relax.

A day or two after the battle, Kreighen summoned them to his quarters, and served them drinks. Tirava and Ijhel were at least polite about it. Ajax didn't understand the gesture.

"Sir, you know holograms don't drink," he argued, though he did find the small glass intriguing.

Kreighen rolled his eyes. "First of all, Ajax, you're not under my command anymore, so call me Jake. Second, this is _real_ Kentucky bourbon...okay, replicated, but the point is it's not that piss they make in Tennessee. So humor me."

"I don't have an alimentary canal, si--Jake."

Ijhel shook her head. Tirava began to smile. Kreighen gave up. "Look, when I give the toast, just pour it in your mouth, and we'll let God sort it out. Okay?" The sergeant seemed to accept that, so he held up his glass. "Here's to the shuttlecraft _Hrunting_ , her crew, and to...to absent friends."

The commander breathed and sipped his bourbon as though it had come directly from heaven. Tirava nursed it until she was sure it wouldn't bite back. Ijhel knocked the whole thing back in one gulp, like a bottle of Cardassian kanar. Ajax opened his mouth and more or less tossed the beverage into his face. As Kreighen watched them all miss the point, his sorrow gave way to amusement.

Ajax wiped most of the drink off before he spoke again. "Do you believe he's dead?"

"Hard to say," Kreighen admitted as he wandered with his glass to the nearest window. The subspace rift could be seen even as the _Stormwind_ was being towed at one-quarter impulse. "The explosion mostly destroyed subspace--I wouldn't know effect it had on matter. But either way, without subspace, it would take years to get to the intercomplex, and years for anybody to get out."

"I tried to get him," Ijhel confessed. "I know it might not have been wise, but I couldn't leave him. But there wasn't time, and...and..."

"We all tried to save him, Utana," Kreighen reassured her. "He didn't want to be saved. Hell, maybe somewhere in there, he and Vystir and all those Borg can build the more perfect Collective they wanted."

"If that happens," Tirava realized, "We could have an even bigger problem than the Borg to worry about."

" _If_ it happens." Kreighen leaned against the window and sipped his drink. "Then again, maybe it's the Borg who'd have a problem. Maybe the Nathan Jimenez we thought we knew will get his head together, and see that the Federation isn't the bad guy out here."

"That remains to be seen," Ijhel noted. She noticed a wet spot Ajax missed, and tried to help him clean it off. "Oh, I agree with your general point, Jake. But technically, they still consider us outlaws. Admiral Janeway is better off with us out of the way, and General Korok isn't the type to forgive and forget."

"But they can't push us around this time," Tirava countered. "If they intend to get rid of us, I say we ask for a small starship, and a transwarp conduit to wherever we want to go. Let's just get _out of here_ , and let them have their stupid war."

"What about Commander Hardcastle," Kreighen wondered.

"What _about_ him?"

"I just thought...you and he..."

"Uzaveh..." Tirava's antennae--both of them, now that Doctor Ben-Aharon had applied a dermal regenerator to the severed one--signaled her frustration with him. "Jake, you and I need to talk about..."

But the door chimed before they could even discuss that. "Come on in," Kreighen responded, only to find his quarters filling with brass. Evidently after hashing out the future of the Alliance's relationship with Unimatrix Zero, they felt it necessary to run it by him.

Of the bunch, Captain Data was the most gregarious. "Ah!" he exclaimed, before going to shake hands with each of them personally. "Doctor Utana Ijhel...Sergeant Ajax...Lieutenant Tirava...Commander Jacob Kreighen."

"Call me Jake," Kreighen shrugged as he received the android's surprisingly strong handshake.

"Jake," Data repeated, with his most practiced trying-to-be-knowing smile. "Please pardon the intrusion, but I have had a great deal of information related to me about you all. So I decided I should make your acquaintance now, before the sergeant is decommissioned..."

"Decommissioned!?" Ijhel gasped. "What are you talking about? He's the latest prototype for a line of holographic soldiers!"

"Actually," Data clarified, his index finger firmly held upright, "he _was_ the latest prototype eight months ago, before the Hollow Men project lost contact with you, Doctor. I regularly read their reports--I have a considerable interest in the study of artificial intelligence--and last month they decided to adopt a new framework for all further holo-programming."

"But why?" Ijhel was taking this considerably worse than Ajax himself.

"I am not privy to the...exact reasons for the decisions, but it appears the existing framework was considered too time-consuming to work with."

Ijhel was furious. "It _was_ until I worked out the flaws! They can't do this to me, Captain! I refuse to abandon my work..."

"Then you no longer wish to participate in the project?"

"Of course not, but..." Ijhel looked to her creation, who was infuriatingly indifferent about this matter. "Mister Ajax is one of the finest individuals I've ever worked with. His service to my crew, and his assistance to my work, has been invaluable. I...need him. At my side."

Data took a moment to mull it over, which Captain Lancaster mistook for a chance to get to the point. "I believe we can table this issue for another time..."

"One moment, Captain," Data said, interrupting the interruption. "Perhaps I can offer a solution to Doctor Ijhel's dilemma. You could repurpose Mister Ajax to be an assistant to, rather than the subject of, your research and development."

"Wait..." Suddenly Ajax was much more concerned where this was headed. "I'm a soldier, not a programmer."

"In point of fact," Data argued, "You are whatever your programming allows you to be." He was impressed with the profundity of his own statement. "Perhaps that aphorism could be the basis for your introduction to the concepts of third-level metaprogramming. I would be happy to provide you with my own experiences in that area."

"You don't understand, Captain," Ajax insisted. "I was created to serve in combat. My existence is dedicated to a single purpose. I can't give that up for...for..." 

He found himself looking at Ijhel, who was staring up at him in a way he'd never quite seen before. Somehow, in his empathetical heuristic systems, he could understand what she wanted to tell him, that she didn't dare say aloud. _Please_ , he interpolated her to be thinking, _please do this for me, so we'll never be apart again._ It was an incredible sentiment to infer from someone's body language, and Ajax wondered if he should have his ego subroutines examined. Then again, he only knew of one person for the job, and she was about to resign from it. And in some strange way, he found the idea of doing something solely for her benefit...pleasing? Maybe that was worth further examination as well.

"Very well," he sighed. "I suppose that means I'll be assigned to _your_ command now, Doctor."

"And I promise you won't regret it for a second," she grinned. "Now, come along to my quarters. We have a lot of work to do... _after_ we celebrate this momentous occasion..."

She took his hand and led him away, and Tirava could swear she head the Cardassian woman quietly...giggle. She raised an eyebrow at Kreighen. "Did I...miss something with those two?"

"I cannot be certain," Data replied, whether anyone asked him or not, "but my observations suggest that they have recently initiated clandestine sexual relations." He announced this aloud, in the same manner he would speculate as to the father of his cat's next litter.

Janeway cleared her throat, aggressively. "Mister Data, I believe Chief Eudon was asking for some assistance with the plasma flow regulators down in engineering. Maybe you could offer to lend a hand."

"Certainly, Admiral." Data began to make his exit, but paused to address his new friends. "If I encounter you again while off-duty, I would be happy to procure both of you a drink." And then, finally, he was gone.

Everyone took time for a deep sigh. "He's an excellent officer," Janeway commented, "but you have to know how to handle him. Which brings us to you, Mister Kreighen." She glanced to Tirava. "I have to ask you to leave now, Lieutenant."

She wasn't going anywhere, but a nod from Kreighen convinced her to go, if only to humor him. Once she was gone, he shook his head and smiled as he poured himself another three fingers of bourbon. "Admiral, I think the last eight months have proven you do _not_ know how to handle me."

"I'm forced to agree." That admission almost caused him to drop his glass. "While I was being held aboard your shuttle, Ensign Jimenez made an astute point--sweeping you and your friends under the rug only made things worse. I'm not certain how much worse, but you seem to have convinced Captain Lancaster that the entire galaxy was on the brink of disaster."

Kreighen enjoyed the aroma of his drink. "It was."

"I'm still interested to know how you learned that."

He knew she was going to ask that sooner or later. "Let's put it this way. I was stranded in unexplored territory for months. But you know what that's like. And I'll bet that during your travels through uncharted space, you encountered beings that told you things above your security clearance. Beings that might have seen the danger of provoking the Borg, or revealing their existence. Do you get my drift, 'Kathy?'"

Janeway was taken aback by his implication, but she read it loud and clear. "I think I do. So you must realize by now the stakes in this war. And why I wasn't prepared to let you drag me away from the table eight months ago."

"I do." Kreighen set his drink down and walked up to her. "Let's get this out in the open, Admiral. I hate your guts. I strongly disagree with your approach to this war, and I oppose the way you step on anyone who gets in your way. All that's changed in the last eight months is that I see why we're stuck with you, and that I'm not as different from you as I'd like to think."

"And if it were up to me," Janeway said, "I'd probably find a better way to put you to pasture--make sure you didn't come back to haunt me." She gestured to the bottle on the table. "Bourbon?" When he nodded, she poured herself a glass, and knew how to appreciate it. "But it's not up to me."

"Then who? Korok?"

Janeway was not pleased to hear that name. "I have informed Unimatrix Zero that they will receive no support from the Alliance if Korok remains in command. His authority has been assumed by Commander Hardcastle. You may think I'm heartless, Mister Kreighen, but I will _not_ tolerate the abuse of sentient beings, not even to defeat the Borg."

"I've been to a prison camp that suggests otherwise," Kreighen remarked.

"Then I'll have to pay them a visit," she shot back. "But as for you and me, it seems the final arbitrator will have to be Captain Lancaster. I don't apologize for turning the _Stormwind_ into bait for the Borg, but it blew up in my face, and now I have to face the political consequences. He's agreed not to make an issue of it, on the condition that you remain under his command."

"You're kidding..."

Lancaster was bothered by that allegation, but overlooked it. "Starfleet needs men and women like you, Mister Kreighen--if only to keep men and women like the admiral in check. You wanted a chance to object to her handling of the war. I can ensure that you have the proper channels to do that, if you remain aboard as my first officer."

Kreighen wasn't convinced. "I assume there's a catch."

"The 'catch,' Commander, is that you set aside your differences with the admiral, as will she. The 'catch' is that you must learn how to behave as a senior officer, and not simply a pilot with enough pips on his collar to get away with anything. You have the raw talent for command, but your approach is akin to a boy left in the wilderness to fend for himself. You need discipline, Mister Kreighen. I will see that you receive it."

"Okay." Kreighen returned to his glass. "I'm glad you two worked out your conditions. Now what if I have some of my own?"

***

She didn't have her own quarters yet. She'd spent the past few nights billeting with Kreighen, so when Janeway told her to leave, there wasn't any particular place to go. That seemed appropriate to Tirava. A woman without a career, a purpose, an honored status in Andorian society...anything.

So she sat in the brig. As had generally been the case throughout the war, there was nobody there--the Alliance was fighting an enemy that rarely allowed prisoners to be taken. It was an easy choice for the woman who wanted to get away from everyone else.

As she sat in one of the cells, brooding, she considered the golden blood that she'd smeared on her cheek. She'd done her best not to clean it off. It was all she had to remember Saa, a girl everyone else was likely to forget. Frankly, for all Tirava knew, the Xhiryptyr'x had become extinct in the subspace explosion.

Somehow, just thinking about the bloodstain was enough to make her cheek feel warm. When she couldn't dismiss the feeling as psychosomatic, she confused the sensation for being on the verge of crying. When she could see a golden glow below her eye, she knew something else was going on.

"Hello, Tirava."

Saa was floating three feet in front of her. It was unmistakably her, but...different. She looked a good three years older, and her body was illuminated in the same golden glow.

"I...Saa...I thought you were dead..."

"Saa is dead," she suggested. "From a certain perspective. My experiences with you have taught me to transcend my existence. I have been reborn? Is that the right term? Language seems clumsy to me now. But I have won my name, in keeping with the ways of the Xhiryptyr'x. And I choose to honor she who brought me this new life. I am Saa'Ava, daughter of Tirava."

Now the Andorian really was about to cry. "What will you do now?"

"It is what I have already done, Mother. My people were beyond their own understanding, and I now perceive the threat they posed to the galaxy. So when I awoke in this form, I removed them from this plane of existence. They will learn to harness the powers they possess. I will teach them, as my mother has taught me."

"Then why did you come here?"

"To save you." Saa'Ava reached down to wipe away Tirava's tears. "I could not bear that you believed me dead. And I could not exist for all eternity? Will I exist that long? Perhaps. I could not exist knowing your soul was in torment. In a few seconds, the Kreighen will arrive here to offer you a place at his side. He has convinced the Federations to return you to your duties. I am here to beg you, Mother, to embrace that destiny."

A human might have been able to handle this kind of cosmic nonsense. For an Andorian, it was inconceivable that a being of this power would be so concerned with something so trivial. "Saa...why would you want me to rejoin Starfleet or stick with Kreighen? What difference would it make to you?"

Saa'Ava smiled warmly, remembering what it was like to be this small, this confused. "It is what _you_ want, Mother. All _I_ want is for you to see that." She turned, as if seeing something approaching in the seventh dimension. "I cannot remain, lest I imperil your universe as my people did once before."

Tirava reached out to touch her hand, but the warmth of her light proved unbearable to mortal flesh. "I..." What could she say to her? To be careful? To have a good life? What were these sentiments to a goddess? So all she could say was: "I love you...my daughter..."

"As I love you," Saa'Ava proclaimed. "And I will mi s s y o u . . ."

And so Tirava was alone again, but not for long. Just as had been foretold, the main doorway into the brig opened, and Kreighen wandered in. 

"I thought I might find you in here," he smiled. But then he saw her face, and was overcome with worry. "Hey...what's wrong?"

"It's...it's..." She couldn't even remember blubbering like this before. She couldn't imagine how humans could stand being this distraught. "It's all right, pinksin."

"No, it's not," He entered the cell she was sitting in, and knelt down in front of her. "Sweetheart, tell me what's bothering you..."

She couldn't keep secrets from him...not like this. But this wasn't the time. So she needed to convince him it was find. And she could only think of one way to do that without sobbing all over him. So she reached over, pushed him to the ground, and kissed him. The way she had the night they first met.

There was no time for anything else. No time to explain what she'd experienced with Saa...or Saa'Ava. No time for him to tell of his experiences with the Q. No time to discuss how he'd convinced Janeway and Lancaster to reinstate Tirava as a member of the _Stormwind_ 's crew, with a promotion to boot. No time to wonder what had gone on between Ijhel and Ajax. No time to grieve over Jimenez, or to worry about the war. No time to discuss their contentious relationship, or its future.

All of that didn't matter anymore. For now, everything was perfect.


End file.
